Freedom's Flight
by Kestrel Aradia
Summary: Kestrel's world is turned upside down when the plight of Bane comes to Gotham. When she catches Bane's eye, can she appeal to his humanity or will she fall to his shadow? Rated M for violence, sexual content, drug use etc. If you don't like, please don't read
1. Chapter 1 A Day of Contradictions

**I Do Not own Any of the Characters, except for Kestrel. :D Enjoy**

It was a day of contradictions in Gotham. It was as if Mother Nature had failed to decide whether she wanted it rain or not. There was an overall fogginess that seemed to permeate the air and yet some assimilation of the sun still reflected against the glass windows of the skyscrapers that rose out of the ground like metal blades of grass. It was humid out and yet whenever the wind blew there was a certain chill in the air.

Kes walked slowly from her apartment to her job as a paid intern at the world renouned Excell Fashion House. She'd been with the place for only a couple of months, but with her keen eye for textures and colors, she had quickly become an asset to the well-established company. Currently, the company was prepping for a fashion show that would happen in a couple weeks as well as black tie event heldby someone of the Gotham Elite. Normally, Mr. Wayne would have sent for one of the interns, preferably pretty, to come by his house to get his measurements (_all_ of them), for a later fitting (in **both **senses of the word).

Curiously enough, Bruce Wayne became a recluse, around the same time the Batman went underground. Kes supposed that it was because he had finally gotten sick of the madness that was Gotham.

Gotham.

It was an interesting city to say the least, Kes mused, and it certainly took a certain person to thrive within such a city. She herself had lived down south in Florida before leaving home at the age of 16 to travel around the world before settling in Turkey. There was a magic in the country where the old mixed with the new, where one could walk amongst the past and still step in the present.

She loved the music and the driving rhythm of the drums and the delicate plucking of the lute, but most of all, she loved the dance. Kes found herself taking belly dance classes from Amulya, who was much sought after dancer for weddings and other celebrations. Amulya taught her the basics, instructing her on proper hand and foot placement, and then, seeing Kes's willingness to learn, decided to take her under her wing as per protégé.

Along with learning to dance, Kes learned how to play the instruments that would accompany a bellydaner since it was customary for a troupe to play for another. She also learned how to make bedlahs, or costumes, and that is where she found that she had an eye for design. Beautiful pieces of reds, greens, and blues would blossom from her finger tips, each and every one a unique piece of art in and of itself. Her reputation spread about her elaborate costumes and soon she became a well sought after artist in her own right, although she was very selective with whom she sold her pieces to. It wasn't greed that kept her from selling them, she only accepted the amount it was worth, even if people insisted on trying to pay twice or trice the value. It was more of fact that she wanted her pieces to go to people who would really appreciate the beauty and the culture that went along with them, as she did.

She spent 4 years in Turkey, learning and growing in her craft, before she felt restlessness stir in her soul once more. Kes had a wandering spirit, as her mother did before her. So, after having a long talk with her teacher, in which they both cried and recounted memories, she sold most of her costumes for a plane ticket and found herself on the road once again.

This time, she returned to her roots in Santa Prisca and stayed with her grandmother in the slums working two jobs, one as a maid during the day and a bartender at night. She connected to her islands roots that she was denied as a child and learned to appreciate life with very little. Kes learned to tailor clothes and to reshape old, used clothes, and transform them into something that was wearable again, fashionable even. One of the designers from Excell Fashion House stopped by her stall at the Saturday market where Kes sold and traded her designs. The designer was impressed at her creativity and meticulous hemlines. She insisted that Kes gather together a portfolio at once at send it to their headquarters in Gotham City. Kes agreed and that's how she found herself in the city walking to her job clutching a cup of coffee, huddled in a mustard tweed coat on a day that was full of contradictions.


	2. Chapter 2 Another Day at the Job

**I Don't Own Any character except Kes.**

**ENJOY AND REVIEW **

"Oh God! Kes! Thank god you're here!" Robin, a frazzled young intern in plaid, accosted Kes at the door. She had cropped flaming red hair that was currently styled as messy bed hair. Whether intentional or not, it gave her impression of a startled bird, which was her namesake. She and Kes instantly bonded over their struggles over being new and their avian names. Ever since Wren decided to quit two weeks ago, she and Kestrel were the only two in Gotham to run the shop. The rest of the employees and interns were abroad at various fashion weeks. Needless to say, the two bonded and formed a great team.

"Margaret needs help styling the rest of the runway looks, a shipment of textiles and clothing items need to be sorted and catalogued, models needed to be fitted, and we have another Go- See schedule at 12. And-"

"Robin, Robin… Listen to me," Kes set down her coffee mug on a gossamer covered table and reaching out to grab the slight girl's shoulders.

"Breathe in, and breathe out. Now, what we're gonna do is divide and conquer, okay?" Kes nodded slowly, eyes wide, urging the red-head to calm down. Robin nodded with her, taking in deep breaths and relaxing a fraction.

"Okay. So, what's this about the Go-See?" She wanted to deal with the most immediate problem first.

Robin sucked in a big breath and explained, "Cari dropped out at the last minute, supposedly she's gone to rehab…"

"Oh no…"

Cari was the world's top model right now, she was the highest paid and the most sought after. Unfortunately (or fortunately) Cari's personal life was plastered on every tabloid magazine, from her public breakup to her coke habit; her entire life was on display. Having her in the show would've been mutually beneficial for both parties: Excell would benefit from the press, and Cari would once again be known for her fierce runway walk instead of her juicy exploits. Now, they would have no one to head the show.

"Damn," Kestrel cursed, "Okay… Well, you can set up for the auditions and I'll go help Margaret. Then we will both meet up and do the textiles then the clothes. Sounds good?" Robin nodded her head frantically. Kestrel smiled, grimly. "Good. Clean up here, and remember to get the camera for Polaroids! You'll be fine."

After reassuring her friend for a couple more minutes, she walked to the back of the store, where she walked up a vintage metal staircase to the second story.

"Margaret?" Kestrel called out, trying to alert the owner of her presence.

"Back here!" A muffled voice replied.

Kestrel stepped into the room to a sight that very familiar to her. Clothes lay in disarray in half packed boxes, hanging over metal clothing racks and strewn over dress forms. Margaret sat cross legged in the middle of the room, surrounded by photos that she was currently trying to organize. Quickly unbuttoning her jacket in the heat of the heat of the room, she settled down next to her boss.

"So you heard of our dilemma? I hope that Robin has at least debriefed you." Margaret was a spry woman in her mid 50s, with white blond hair and expressive green eyes. She had boundless energy, a no nonsense attitude, and reputation for being a cut throat business woman.

"She did. I had her set up for the go-see and thought I could help you finish up here." Kes sat down next to her and looked at the photos

"I was thinking with Cari gone, we could jus t strip everything down and revamp the whole show."

"I like that, something fresh and different." She took a closer look at what Margaret had put together.

"So… Vintage?"

Margaret made an affirmative 'hm' and continued to piece together different outfits and accessories.

"I was thinking that we could make our way through the different iconic fashion eras starting with the 20s. I need you to make a couple of things. You'll be paid extra." Margaret didn't bother to look up when she said this.

"What do you need?" With her insomnia, Kestrel was hardly at a loss of what to do to fill her time, and another sewing project would fill up the dead hours of the night.

"I want a navy blue military jacket. Corduroy, with some sort of yellow accent. Let me see the sketch before I approve you to actually construct it. Okay, now get these," she handed Kes some Polaroids bundled together with paper clips, "and put them on a spare clothing rack, if you can't find one, make room."

Kestrel spent the rest of the morning fluttering around the store, finding the objects on the photographs, like some kind of real life game of I Spy. Every time Margaret handed her a packet, Kestrel took it as a new mission to complete. But the time 11:45 rolled around, she had all of the outfits and their accessories put together on the racks, with the exception of the jacket she was meant to whip up.

"All finished?" Margaret had impeccable timing.

"Yes, Ma'am"

"Good, we have models coming in already and I need you at the camera and ready to take notes with Robin"

Kestrel nodded, covering up a yawn with the back of her hand. It was going to be a long day and it had barely even started.


	3. Chapter 3 Coffee

**Here's Chapter 3 I hope you like :) I think that before I introduce Bane, you guys need to get a sense of who Kes is and what exactly** **she's about. Enjoy!**

Being an insomniac didn't mean that Kestrel never felt the feelings of tiredness. Quite the opposite really, she felt tired most of the time, but never got the chance to actually sleep. Coffee was her poison of choice, although now health experts were clamoring to tell the public about the health benefits of it.

Every day she would make the trek down 2 blocks from the store to Indulgence Coffee Shoppe and order a caramel cappuccino for Robin, hot green tea for Margaret, and as for herself, she never ordered the same thing twice in a row. Kestrel had sampled the entire menu and tried to vary, to keep from getting sick of the flavor.

Kestrel pushed open the doors of Excell and quickly pulled on her tweed jacket before pushing up the sleeves to her forearms. As much as she loved her job, she couldn't wait to leave the store where the casting was still taking place. Being surrounded by tall, waif like women who thought that they were entitled to wear the garments she put together, made Kestrel roll her eyes in annoyance.

"Afternoon, April!" She smiled at the barista who was lounging against the marble counter of the shop, reading book. It wasn't quite the midday lunch rush yet, and April was enjoying her last minutes of peace.

"Hey doll, how's it going?"

"You know, same old thing…," Kes smiled softly before breaking out into a yawn, "Can I get the two regulars and this time a coffee with 3 espresso shots?"

"Wow… 3 huh? Must be fashion week." April put down her book before starting on the orders.

"Not quite… Just a normal runway show." Kestrel bent over looking at the display of baked goods. Chocolate chip muffins, scones of every variety, homemade doughnuts, cookies, and cinnamon rolls graced the trays and filled her nostrils with their heavenly scent.

"Since when is anything normal for you guys?" April playfully snarked at her best customer.

Kestrel replied with a laugh, "Touché. Hey, can I get some of these? Actually I want two of everything." She gestured to the display of food. April looked back to see what she was talking about, and then nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course! I made most of that stuff this morning! You will love it! No one has been able to resist my cupcakes" She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. Kes laughed again, April may flirt but she knew that young fashionista wasn't interested in her that way. They had friendly banter every day but left it at that, it made for refreshing conversation and interesting morning.

"Here you are!" April handed the girl a rather large pastry box, and a tray that held all of the drinks. Kestrel handed her the company credit card while picking up the tray and box. "You look like you need a little bit of help."

"Nonsense just put the card in my back pocket and I should be good. Besides I know that would make your day."

"No, what would make my day is you going out with me, as more than friends." She took the card and slipped it into her friend's back pocket and gave it a small smack. Kestrel turned around and looked at her April. The barista was tall, a little thicker than most, and striking with her pierced nose and cotton candy pink hair that hung to her shoulders. She was beautiful, but just not what Kestrel was looking for. Kestrel wasn't exactly straight, nor was she gay. She considered herself "soul sexual" and drawn to the person's essence rather than focus on if they had a penis or vagina.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but we can grab lunch one day when I'm off? Oh! And I'll be sure to hold some of items from our new collection for you, you would love them."

"Sure thing… you sure you'll be okay?" April looked eager to help.

"I'll manage, it's only two blocks." Kestrel tucked the box under her arm and lift the tray gingerly, trying to fine her balance before walking over to the door, which she then used her back to open.

Out on the streets, people were briskly walking up and down the sidewalk, it was the lunch rush. Kestrel cursed to herself softly, as getting to back to Excell would be harder now that she had to navigate through a sea of people.

"'Scuse me! Excuse me!" Kestrel yelled out dodging business men and women who were chatting away on their cell phones, at first this seemed to work as the people gave her a relatively wide berth. That was until someone clipped her right shoulder, spilling her coffee all over her dark jeans. Kestrel hissed as the scalding liquid scorched through the denim and made contact with her skin. She turned to see who ran into her, but they were already lost in the crowd.

"Oh sugar…"

"Hey, let me help you," a man stood in front of her and gently took the tray from her hand, allowing Kes to grab onto the pastry box with both hands.

"Thanks, most people wouldn't help a stranger out, you know."

"I'm not most people."

Kestrel peered up taking a closer look at the man who helped her. He was tall and had dark expressive eyes that were currently crinkled up into a smile. He was tall and gangly, had an interesting face and could've been a model. At least at Excell, Margaret liked her male models lithe, the dark soulful poetic type.

"Thanks," Kestrel replied a little breathlessly, although she told herself that it was because of the pain in her leg.

"So where are we headed?"

Kestrel shook her head, trying to clear it, "Excell Fashion House."

The good looking man, nodded, "I figured as much."

Kestrel cocked her head in confusion, deciding whether she should be offended or not. They walked together in silence, uncomfortable on her part; she was still trying to figure this man out. When they reached the doors of her job, he politely held them open for her.

"Thanks…" She mumbled, putting the box beside her abandoned coffee mug from earlier in the morning. Models were still inside, trying on outfits and strutting down the hallway.

She turned back towards him, unsure of what to say. Instead she took the tray from him and set that on top of the table as well.

"Thank you, again, for helping me out. You didn't have to do that" Kestrel pulled her lips into some semblance of a smile.

"What would the world be like, if we didn't help one another every now and then?"

Kestrel's smile grew into a genuine one, "Very true. My name is Kestrel by the way."

"John." He held out her hand for her to shake, but she shook her head.

"I would, but I've got coffee all over my hands. I don't think that would be pleasant."

"Fair enough, be careful out there." He looked as though he were going to say something else when Margaret called out for Kestrel's help.

"You have a nice day." John smiled again. He really did have a great smile, Kes thought to herself.

"You too…" Kestrel replied sincerely, smiling softly back at him as he walked out of the door. Once he was out of the door she broke out into a yawn, and lamented that her coffee was the one that spilled. Maybe Margaret would be willing to let her go out and get another one. She frowned at herself before returning to work.

**Review if you like :D **


	4. Chapter 4 Nightfall

**I really would love some feedback on what you like, or don't like etc.**

It was late or early rather, it being 2 O'clock in the morning. Kestrel rubbed the back of her neck, trying to assuage the ache that had built up from sitting in one place, hunched over a piece of paper.

The day had been a busy one; she had been able to get her coffee, with April scolding her for not asking for help. She had sat with Margaret and Robin assessing the emaciated bodies saunter up and down the hall, while gleefully munching on carb filled pastries that they would never dream of eating for the fear of gaining weight and being out of a job. She took their pictures and their measurements and helped her boss to decide which ones would be right for the show. When Margaret decided to scrap the old idea in favor of the vintage one, she decided to scrap all of the previous models as well. Robin and Kes then spent the rest of the morning calling back the models and having them fitted for the show, pinning here and there and figuring out which shoes work, looking at them walk and then pinning again. The whole process was so exhausting, Kestrel was sure she'd actually get a decent night's sleep for sure that night. If that wasn't enough, she and Robin still had to catalogue the textiles and clothing pieces, which was why she was sitting down and registering each piece.

"Are we done yet?" Kestrel called out tiredly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Not quite… we're around halfway through…" Robin's voice sounded disappointed and close to tears, she was also bone tire.

"Okay, we should probably stop here for now. We're both so tire that we'd probably make mistakes and have to do it over anyway… and I still have to do a sketch for Margaret tomorrow…" Kestrel rolled her neck before standing up. Her knees gave a loud crack, and her back popped several times as she bent over to stretch.

"I suppose… Lemme just lock up back here and I'll meet you out front." Robin closed the door to the upstairs studio room and walked slowly down the stairs. The skin beneath her eyes were puffy and dark and her red hair that was tastefully messy from the morning had now become flat and lifeless.

"Aww! You look soo sad!" Kestrel tried to give her friend a sympathetic look before dissolving into giggles.

"Shut up," Robin replied good naturedly returning the smile.

They spent the next 20 minutes cleaning up the store front, putting things back into place and changing the clothes on the mannequins before calling it a night. Kestrel gathered up her coffee mug and the box of pastries which still had a fair amount food in it.

"You want any?" She tilted the box to her friend.

Robin considered before shaking her head, "Nah… I gotta watch what I eat. You go ahead and take them"

Kestrel nodded, although she wondered why Robin had to watch what she ate, she was super slender, almost waif like. She decided not to push the matter. All she wanted at this point was to go home and take a nice warm bath.

She walked out the door and waited for Robin to lock up.

"See you tomorrow?" Robin asked as she headed towards her car.

"You should… But I'm not coming in till the afternoon. I took the morning off. We can finish cataloguing when I come back in." Kestrel reassured her friend.

They hugged each other and parted ways.

Walking home wasn't that bad, Kestrel wasn't in Gotham in the days before the Dent Act but she had learned a thing or two while living in Santa Prisca. She huddled in her jacket walking slowly and enjoyed the moonlight. She loved the city, with the high rise buildings and the busy traffic, but she also loved seeing the moon and the stars, and with being in Gotham, she couldn't see them. She was getting that feeling again, that restlessness that began with a tingling in her spine. Perhaps after this runway show, she'd ask for some time off to go back to Europe, maybe she could even reunite with Amulya.

Kestrel was almost to her apartment complex when she heard a noise to her right. In the shadowy alley there were three men who seemed to be moving something on the ground. Kestrel slowed down and hid against a building whilst trying to get a better look. One of the men crouched before disappearing into the ground. She gasped, turning away and pressing herself flat against the rough surface of the building. _What are they doing? Why would they be going into the sewers?_

Kestrel cautiously turned to look at the men again; they seemed to be talking furtively. Then the other man slipped inside the manhole, swallowed up inside the earth. She had seen enough, pushing herself off the building she once gain began walking to her apartment, but at a brisker pace. In her haste to get away she failed to realize that she had caught the attention of the 3rd man.

**YAY! Another chapter done! :D I'm really excited about this, review :D**


	5. Chapter 5 Confrontations

**Chapter 5. I find I like follows/favorites more than reviews. I'm just glad that I get views at all :D **

Kestrel stumbled into her apartment and turned on the lights. She smiled at the familiar sight of her home. It was a decent size and she decorated her whole house with artifacts from Turkey and her travels. In her living room, her belly dance costumes hung on the walls like shining tapestries that offered a glimpse into her past life. She dropped the pastry box on top of the kitchen counter, kicked off her heels and headed to her bathroom. Stryker, her ginger kitten, mewled at her as soon as she came through the door. Stryker was a stray she found outside of her apartment building when she first moved in. He was a delight in her life, with a playful spirit, and an excellent mouser whenever one seemed to find its way into her home.

Stryker followed his master into the bathroom and sat patiently as she went through her nightly ritual. Kes turned on the faucet for her bath before taking a scrunchie and putting her hair into a high ponytail. She then peeled off her dark denim jeans, winced as the fabric was reluctant to leave her skin. What had bothered her most was that she had to spend most of the day feeling dirty and sticky. Her vintage T shirt went next, then her simple thong, leaving her naked in front of her bathroom vanity. She tilted her head to the side and analyzed her nude body. Small breast tapered into a smaller waist that flared slightly into hips. It was a body that was angular and gawky looking as a teen that turned into slimness in her 20s. She grabbed her breasts and cupped them together.

_If only they were bigger_, she though wistfully to herself. Kes turns left and right analyzing her frame, idly wishing she could change certain features about herself. She put some bubble bath in the tub, letting the white frothy suds infect the water before shutting the faucet off and climbing in. Hissing slightly as the water scalded her skin, Kes forced herself to relax and pretty soon she was enjoying herself in the warmth of the tub.

Stryker meowed loudly before trotting up and situating himself by her head, and pawed at her ponytail. She reacted by taking a handful of bubbles and blowing them in his face, which he swatted at as well. Kestrel giggled to herself. The tiny kitten crouched before launching himself out to into the middle of what seemed to him a perfectly dry mountain of fluff.

Kes let out a small exclamation as Stryker hit the water. Every time she took a bath, this seemed to happen, and she was beginning to think that he really enjoyed getting himself wet.

She held up her pet, holding him close to her face.

"What am I gonna do with you, huh?" She cooed affectionately. His answer was only to lick her nose with his sandpaper tongue. She set him back down and allowed him to swim around while she bathed herself quickly.

"Okay, you little terror, time to get out of the pool."

She stood up from the tub, the water rushing down her skin, and picked Stryker up and set him down at the edge of the tub. Stepping out of the tub she padded over to her towel and dried herself off before putting on a white silk robe. A small splash notified her that Stryker had jumped back in. Kestrel chuckles as she made her way from the bathroom into the living room.

Kestrel's laughter died in her throat as she saw a man lounging on her sofa. Blinking wildly she backed away slowly by taking in her surroundings: He picked the lock on her door; he didn't want to make noise to alert the neighbors. It also meant that he was smart and that he'd probably did this before, and that means that she might possibly get out of this. He wouldn't want to escalate to murder. She was assuming a lot. She looked at him, memorizing his face: Blue eyes, olive skin tone, beard, long curly brown hair. All black clothing with what seemed to be a bullet proof vest over his chest. Of course none of this would matter if she didn't live to see it.

There were knives in the kitchen, and her switchblade was in her bedroom. Kestrel licked her lips, which had grown dry. She swallowed before calling out.

"I don't have much money, but you can take whatever you need I don't mind." She licked her lips again, "You can leave here and I promise that I won't call the cops."

She felt dizzy with panic as she saw him lean forward. Her eyes tightened when she found that he had a chocolate chip muffin in his hand. That he could feel so comfortable invading her personal space, Kestrel swallowed again, trying to think of something to say.

"I don't want anything from you. I simply followed you home to make sure you didn't call the police."

"Police? You broke in to my house so… I _wouldn't _call the police." Kestrel spoke slowly failing to make sense of the situation. The threat of murder greatly deteriorated, although she still worried about the state of her wellbeing. The clock ticked and the second dragged on as the duo assessed each other, trying to figure out how to end the stalemate Kestrel didn't want to crack her precarious hold on safety, while the other didn't want to give away his situation or too much information.

After about five minutes of their tense impasse, the man set the half eaten muffin on the coffee table before standing up and brushing his hand on his black cargo pants.

"Well, if you don't mind. I'm going to take my leave. You should get a better lock." He gave her a smirk, flashing dazzlingly white teeth.

"What if I call the police when you leave?" Kestrel dared to ask.

The man scoffed in return, "You have no real reason to call. You know nothing, I've taken nothing. They have no reason to investigate." Kestrel frowned, realizing he was right; they would never put her case to the forefront.

"I will not come back, if that's what you're worried about."

And with that, he left, closing the door behind him.

Kes stared wide eyed at the door for a long time. To have her personal space so vandalized, and for nothing. She sunk to the floor in a stupor. Gasping for breath, she let out a choked sob, followed by another, then another. Soon she was bawling on the floor curled into a ball. Her face were slick with tears, when she felt a rough texture on her cheek. Stryker.

"Oh Stryker," She cried out reaching for him and cuddling him to her chest. He purred, snuggling closer to her, sensing her distress. And the two lay like that for a long, long time…

**AN- So we have met John Blake, and now Barsad... Don't worry, Bane will be in the picture soon. I've got most of the chapters vaguely mapped out in my head. Till Later**


	6. Chapter 6 Odd Jobs

**AN- Hey guys, I've been on vacation and just got back. School's starting up and I have several auditions coming up, BUT I will try to keep upating as much as possible. I already have the chapters in my head so this will end up being a completed story.**

**Also, love my two reviews :) And, of course, all of the follows and faves. They mean a lot. Anyhow, expect this and maybe 2 or 3 more chapters in the next couple days!**

**WARNING- This chapter contains drug use! If you don't like, don't read.**

Kestrel lay on the ground for a long time. Till her sobs quieted, till her body stopped shaking, till even the tears stopped leaking from her eyes. Stryker raised himself on his hind legs and pushed at her shoulder, trying to gauge some reaction from his owner, mewling pitifully all the while. It was some time before Kes felt like moving again, and the first thing she did was get up and quickly locked her door again. Then she gingerly lifted the half eaten morsel and threw it in the trash. She padded around her small kitchen, picking up a metal teapot, before emptying the old water and replacing it with more from the faucet. It was 5 in the morning, and time to start her "other job."

Kestrel had a plethora of odd jobs, to one- pay the rent for her fairly decent apartment and two- to keep her mind busy in the many hours she did not sleep. It was a bit Fight Club, she knew but it kept her sane. Now, she had to bake. Kes was no ordinary baker, what she did was make special goods, laced with THC. She tried not to sell to children, but to target those who needed it, and to college kids who wanted to have fun. There was a strict code of ethics she lived by, and one that she intended on never breaking. Yes, she was a drug dealer, and yes what she did was illegal, but her goods helped people who were in pain and that's what she tried to focus on.

While the pot was boiling, she walked to her room. It was big enough, with its desert tan walls and red and scarlet scarves draping from the ceiling. She had mural of Istanbul across from her bed that she was working on, but abandoned because she felt too uninspired to finish. A metal clothing rack held all of her clothes and she had a wall of boxes that held her shoes. Her closet held containers upon containers of marijuana, each one categorized and labeled. She grabbed the nearest one and then strode back into the kitchen to start cooking. While she baked, Kestrel tried to compromise with her building guilt. It wasn't as if she were selling meth, or crack, or prescription pills or even opiates. Weed, though an addictive drug wasn't that bad for you. It relieved pain, helped those going through chemo and those who were anorexic and bulimic. _The hard truth was that I'm a criminal, _Kestrel conceded to herself. _ I'm breaking the law, but that law doesn't have to be right._

Kestrel nuked 2 cups of cannibutter in her microwave, and then mixed into cookie and a brownie batter. Pouring the brownie batter into a glass rectangular pan, and making heart shaped cookies on a cooking sheet, Kes put both containers into the already hot oven and waited, drumming her fingers on the kitchen table. The events from the past hour kept playing and replaying in her mind, fraying her nerves a little bit more until she found her eyes darting back towards the door every couple of second.

This would not do. She strode back to her room and grabbed her Zippo along with her favorite glass blown pipe. It was a purple elephant she got at some junky tobacco shop down by the Narrows when she first moved to Gotham, before she knew of the infamous reputation of that part of town. Selecting a nug of her highest grade, Kes went back to her living room and collapsed onto the sofa before plugging the carb with her finger, lighting the bud and inhaling as much as she could. The acrid smoke filled her mouth, snaked its way down her throat and into her lungs. Kes held her breath, trapping it there and waited to be taken by the high. Exhaling, she then lit up again. Stryker, the little ginger terror, leapt up and snuggled against her lap. Kes smiled to herself, and rubbed his sweet spot on the back of his neck, causing him to rumble like an old truck. Burrowing himself further, if that was even possible, he flipped over onto his back and presented his fat belly for her to massage. He mewled pathetically, begging her with his large green eyes.

"Give him an inch, and he'll take a mile." Kestrel muttered before acquiescing, scratching his belly. Stryker bounced, or her would have if gravity didn't reign supreme, but it did, so he handed up landing on his side on the ground. Kestrel chuckled.

"I thought all cats landed on their feet?"

Stryker replied with an indigent glare. He was saved from further embarrassment when the kitchen bell gave a _'ding'_ signaling that her baked goods were done. It really did smell heavenly and Kestrel's stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous day. Grabbing her small charge be the scruff, she gently plopped him down on her shoulder where he balanced himself by slightly clawing her collar bone and his tail curling around her neck for extra security. She grabbed a mitt and opened up the oven, fully releasing the glorious smells from within. She allowed herself to inhale the intoxicating scent and her eyes briefly rolled to the back of her head. She stomach gave another obnoxious growl. Quickly grabbing each tray to cool and setting them on top of the stove, Kestrel then went to the box of pastries and seized a cinnamon roll from its depths. She sat down and held it in front of her kitten, which was still perched on her shoulder, and he took a small bite. They sat and shared the cinnamon roll, before sharing another one. Kestrel glanced at the clock,

"7 o'clock? Bath time!"


	7. Chapter 7 Baths and the Boys' Home

**AN- So sorry for the late update. School is super crazy even with my 3 day schedule (and I'm still full time). No Bane in this chapter :( But their meeting is coming up soon. I just wanted to come up with the most logical scenerio and (fortunately or unfortunately) it doesn't happen right away. I wanted their meeting to be unique from all the other ones that are on here, not that they aren't any good (they are :D ). This delay also gives me a time to perfect his voice and style, it's a very interesting character to write. Enjoy! (PS sorry if there are spelling/ grammar errors... I try to edit myself, but I just don't have the time)**

**WARNING- Mention of drugs, don't like, don't read.**

Kestrel loved taking baths, especially while she was high. There was just something that had her sense of touch and being touched on overdrive. The water and the bath oils that made her skin smooth and soft to the touch. Actually, her first big buy of her apartment was the luxurious bath tub that sat in the middle of her bathroom. It wasn't exactly practical, actually it was a downright nuisance to be constantly be going around it to her vanity, but she was reminded twice a day how much it was worth it.

Unfortunately today all Kestrel could afford was a quick 20 minute bath with Stryker splashing around in the foamy depths. She washed herself thoroughly before turning her attention to her kitten. The slender woman then stood up out of the tub, dried herself and pulled her wriggling companion out as well. Plopping Stryker down on her vanity, she began getting them ready for the day. First they'd have to go to St. Swithin's to drop off some things, then to Excell, and finally to the vet's so that Stryker could get a check up and his latest round of shots. Oblivious to his master's plans, the kitten preened underneath the warm blasts of air from the hairdryer. Turning it on herself, she quickly dried her own hair, and then proceeded to put her makeup on.

She stood up and walk to the bathroom door, and cautiously opened up the door, slightly fearing what was on the other side… Did the man come back? Would he come to kill her or rape her? Honestly, she would rather he kill her than be violated in such a way. Kestrel peered out, scanning her living room. Nothing. Huffing a sigh of relief, she padded to her bedroom to finish getting dressed.

The slim woman changed into a simple worn grey Pink Floyd shirt and silver studded, black, boot cut jeans. She slipped on wedge heeled leather booties and completed her outfit by pulling on a vintage biker jacket. Margaret wanted each of her employees to exude a certain style, and with Kestrel's wild dark brown hair, she was perfectly suited for the rocker style.

Stryker trailed his master into the kitchen where she sorted the brownies into "care packages" of 5 each before wrapping them in clinging plastic and tying them with colorful ribbons.

_Nothing like a little homey touch, _She thought cheerfully as she finished up/

Grabbing 3 packs of cookies, Kestrel shoved them into her back and tucked the rest into her refrigerator to sell at a later date. Next, she plucked Stryker from the floor and stuck him in her oversized purse.

"If you shit inside this bag or you mess with the cookies I swear you will get it!" She warned, giving him a glare.

The orange kitten meowed; offended that she'd ever think he would do such a disgusting thing. He had to sit in there!

"Good!"

The Swithin's Home for Boys was something that kestrel stumbled upon when she was still new to Gotham. One day she was walking the street and felt a tugging on her shoulder. A hand was rummaging inside her purse. On her travels in Europe, especially in the less privileged places, Kestrel had a lot of experience with pickpockets and learned to be sensitive to the environment around her. She didn't think that things like this happened in such a thriving city, but this was before she found out about Gotham's impoverished underbelly. She stiffened at first but then relaxed and acted as if she didn't feel anything. When the investigating hand finally located her wallet, she whipped around and caught his arm in a vice grip. What she saw stunned her: A skinny little kid with a holey shirt and too short jeans. After struggling with him for a few minutes, with him calling her a slew of bad names that made even Kestrel raise her eyebrows, she finally convinced him that she wouldn't call the cops. Instead she took him to a nearby diner, fed him (food seems to always seem to be the universal way to get people to trust you), and asked him his name. His name was Miguel, or Mickey, as she soon called him, and he was 8 years old ("I'll be nine in September," He announced proudly). He lived in the Narrows with his aunt; his parents had died in the night of terror that the Scarecrow had unleashed. He was a bright kid, whip cord smart and an attitude to match, but unfortunately tragedy struck again: His aunt was struck with cancer and the insurance would just cover her treatments. With his aunt out of work she couldn't take care of him anymore and so it was off to the Home.

Kestrel's heart broke at the story, and was touched that although the kid wasn't dealt the best hand in life, he was determined to change it.  
"I'm gonna go to college and then I'm gonna make so much money that there will be no more poor orphans!" His reedy voice laced with determination. From that day on, Kestrel made a point to visit him as much as possible to keep tabs on him and made sure he stayed on the straight and narrow. She also used him as a middle man to get her "Chemo Cookies," as she liked to call them, to his aunt. At first, his aunt tried to pay her but Kestrel vehemently refused, saying that it was out of her growing fondness of Mickey.

Kestrel strode up the steps to the door, still buzzing from the morning's toke, her head down, when a voice startled her.

"I see you don't have anything to spill this time, Kestrel"

She looked up, a bit wild eyed before recognizing the man in front of her.

"Oh… Hey John! Or should I say Officer-"

"Blake," He finished for her, "Officer Blake."

"Officer Blake." She murmured to herself. The name rolled off her tongue, it felt good, it felt right, it suited him and she love the taste of the words in her mouth. Officer Blake.

"So what are you doing here, Officer Blake?" She smiled saucily, although on the inside she panicked a bit. _How big of an offense is laced cookies? Did she smell? Were her eyes red?_

Quickly she stamped down her rising hysteria and tried to focus and act normal.

"I usually visit here when I can, figured I can pay it forward since I used to live here."

"Oh." Whatever answer Kestrel was expecting, it wasn't that.

"What about you?" He looked at her curiously.

She laughed, thinking of her young friend, "There's a kid in there who I visit a lot… It's a long story."

"Mind telling me about it sometime over coffee?" He smiled at her, and her breath caught. He continued to surprise her.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I meant to ask at your store, but I kinda chickened out." Blake grinned while rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"Um… Sure, I'd like that.." Kestrel bit her lip before giving another smile. Inside she was crushed. _It would never work_ she thought forlornly.

"Can I get your number?" he asked while pulling out his cell, Kes nodded while prattling off her digits. Reluctantly butterflies rose in her belly as he said that he'd call her as soon as he got off work.

"I gotta go, see you later?" Officer Blake looked so hopeful, that Kestrel was actually looking forward to their next meeting.

"Yeah.." For a minute there Kestrel forgot to give an actual response. With that he bounded down the steps like a man rejuvenated and Kestrel chuckled softly to herself.

Stryker poked his head out of the purse and growled softly.

"Oh hush you! You're gonna be replaced. If anything it's gonna end with him arresting me and you going to the pound. C'mon let's go visit Mickey Man."


	8. Chapter 8 Unexpected Detour

**AN- There's finally Bane in this chapter :D Or at least a brief mention of him. As for those who are getting impatient, let me ask you this question: When you first read a book do you automatically get thrown into climax of the story? Most likely not. I'm trying to show you a sense of who my character is before I introduce other variables. **

**Please keep in mind that EVERYONE and EVERYTHING I do is done for a reason, and for the plot in the future. I don't do this for fluff, everything has a purpose. **

**As for the reviewer who thought my last chapter was annoying and asked who takes baths within 2 hours of each other? I did :D But thank you for the writing compliment.**

**But thank you to everyone who continue to read my story, much love and appreciation. I appreciate constructive criticism, but simply saying you not liking something doesn't do help me and simply wastes your time writing a useless comment.**

**SOME CHANGES- I pushed forward the timeline a bit, making the event you see in CH 1 Miranda's fundraiser. **

**Getting off my soapbox now, and without any further comments, I'm way too sassy today :D Here you go!**

Kestrel finished her visit with Mickey, she didn't get to stay long because he got in trouble for stealing, again. She berated him thoroughly, telling him that that type of lifestyle wouldn't send him anywhere good. She was in the middle of the lecture when he interrupted her telling her how his aunt got worse. The cancer had spread and she had turned terminal. The doctors didn't know how long she'd make it and it didn't look good. On top of that his uncle just left to take a job outside of the city to help pay for the growing expenses. At first the slender woman was heartbroken, she didn't know what to do or what to say. 'I'm sorry' couldn't cover it and it sounded too… She couldn't put the words together.

She held him as he started to cry, in all the times they hung out together he never cried, he always seemed so strong, but in that moment Mickey was just another 8 year old kid. Kestrel wished she do more, be a better person. The most she wanted to do in that moment was say that everything would be okay, but it just seemed like a lie to say such a thing and she knew that he wouldn't want her to do that. So instead she just held him as he bawled his eyes out. He gratefully accepted her cookies, saying that when the time comes he didn't want her to be in any pain.

Kestrel was ushered out of the home before she could really console the boy, she would have to wait until next week to really talk to him. She was mulling over her thoughts when her phone buzzed.

"Kestrel speaking."

"Oh my god, Kestrel! Where are you? I need you here at Excell now." It was Robin, panicking as usual. Kes rolled her eyes, the girl was really high strung.

"Okay, I'll be there in 20, I was supposed to drop off Stryk first but I guess I can swing by there now. What's going on."

"I am having a full on melt down right now."

"Okay, just calm down, and we can fix whatever it is. Are you breathing? Sit down and take deep calming breaths."

Kestrel hung up without saying goodbye. She like Robin, she really did, but her need to go into a frenzy about every little detail was a bit much. Sometimes she thought that she should mention to the redhead that maybe she wasn't cut out for the fashion world… But no, that would be rude, who was she to say that to another person. Robin was talented, if a bit neurotic.

Kestrel sighed, "Looks like you and me are taking a little detour."

"What's the problem, Robin?" Kestrel walked in the store and got right to the point. She had to call the vet to reschedule the appointment and had an hour to get to the office.

"I am so sorry I called on your morning off, but this is an emergency!" Robin was flitting around like a small bird, putting things on racks.

"Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"I need you to take this dress to this location." Robin shoved a custom Margaret LeVange dress into Kestrel's arms along with a scrap of paper. "It's already fitted but there needs to be one last fitting just to make sure everything still looks right, and she can't have anyone come here, and I can't leave the shop since I'm the only one here."

"Fine. You seriously owe me one." Kestrel scooped up the dress and shoved the piece of paper into her purse. She stalked out of the store fuming, it didn't look as though she'd be taking Stryk to the office now, and he really needed his updates. Kestrel hailed a cab, thrust the address into the hands of the awaiting cabbie, and settled down for the ride. She stared at the window as they ventured into a part of town that she had never been before. The houses were bigger, richer, and the yards became so opulent they boarded towards gaudy.

"Here you go ma'am." The cab driver pulled into the driveway of something that Kestrel could describe as an extravagant mansion. The dark haired woman paid the man and watched him speed off before turning towards the door. Sucking in a breath, Kestrel steeled her nerves before walking up to the door and ringing the doorbell.

_Shit. I didn't even ask who this dress was for. _Kestrel looked at the piece of paper for more clues _Ms. Tate, sounds nice, I guess…_

The door swung open, revealing a small dark woman in a serving girl's uniform.

"Hi, I'm Kestrel and I'm here for- um," Kestrel glanced down, looking at the piece of paper for reassurance, "Ms. Tate? I have her dress from Margaret's store, Excell…" She finished lamely, looking uncertain.

"Oh yes! You were expected, please follow me into the foyer." The dark girl moved aside, opening the door wider to accompany Kes. She walked slowly inside staring at the walls which were tastefully adorned with expensive art pieces. A family of four could easily live for a year for the price of just one of Ms. Tate's paintings. Kestrel realized that she had stopped moving and the girl was waiting for her to follow her. Kes flushed and walked on, they reached the foyer. The girl directed Kes where to sit, and she sit, perching on the edge of the seat nervously, putting her purse down and clutching the dress in her hands tightly.

"Ms. Tate will be with you shortly." And with that, the dark girl was gone and Kestrel was left to her own devices.

Stryker peeked out of his hiding place, turning his head until he spied his master. He put his front paws up on the edge of her bag and gave a plaintive cry.

"I know you don't like being in there, dude… But I have no idea if it's even okay for me to have a pet with me, so you're just gonna have to stay put."

Kestrel continued to look around her, at all the antiques that the wealthy woman seemed to collect. A growl caught her attention, Stryker had managed to heft himself halfway out of the bag and was struggling to pull himself the rest of the way out.

"Stryker!" Kestrel warned as she reached out to grab him by the scruff but she snatched at air, as the ginger kitten managed to wriggle himself the rest of the way out of the bag. Scrambling to his feet, he looked around him as if amazed at his feat. He playfully bounced, excited at his newfound freedom, then, as any other adventurous kitten would do, he scampered off to investigate the new territory his master brought him to.

"Shit." Kestrel was up and running to follow the little runaway. She followed him down a hallway and to a partially closed room. Stryker slipped inside the crack, tail held high, and not a care in the world. Kestrel, on the other hand, was getting really nervous. This was grounds for being fired, she was in a stranger's home, a stranger, who could, essentially, ruin her career in one fell swoop.

She swallowed.

"Stryker. Stryker! Get back here _now!" _Kestrel whispered loudly, trying to get his attention, while also trying not to alert whomever , if there was anyone, in the room.

"And who is this small creature?" A man spoke, his voice a friendly.

_Shit, I just can't catch a break, now can I? _Kestrel groaned to herself. She edged herself towards the door and opened the door slightly… Maybe this person would understand, he seemed friendly enough.

"How did you get here, small one?"

Kestrel heard her kitten purring loudly. She peeked through the doorframe and immediately threw herself backwards gasping, before covering her mouth to muffle the sound. It was the man from last night. A million things were running though her head. Her eyes welled up with tears.

"Let's go find your master."

Kestrel lurched forward, away from the door, and ran back to the foyer. No one was in there, thank goodness.

"Miss! I think I have your cat."

Kestrel turned, and a flash of recognition flashed across his face. He was holding Stryker, and he was cuddling up to his newfound friend, not knowing what a dangerous person he was.

"You!"

Kestrel let out a cry, and turned back around where she ran into a woman, who held onto her. She looked up into the woman, who in turn looks absolutely bewildered at the entire situation. She was dressed in fine, stylish clothing, this must've been Ms. Tate. This somehow didn't reassure Kestrel, if only it made her fight even harder to get out of her grasp.

"Stop her, Talia."

Hands tightened around her in a viselike grip, and Kestrel had a hard time breathing.

"Please…" Kestrel plead for mercy, but she'd receive none. Ms. Tate's eyes were soulless pits of blue, and she's receive no reprieve in here.

Something hard and unforgiving hit the back of her head, and Kestrel pitched forward into unconsciousness. Miranda Tate dropped the dead weight to the floor without further thought.

"What is the meaning of this, Barsad?" Miranda turned her cold eyes toward him. The dark haired man tossed the antic brass candelabra, which he used to subdue, aside and held up his hands plaintively.

"I thought she may have seen some of us going in the tunnels, so I went to her apartment to threaten her." He sounded uncertain. Miranda gave a small smile, and yet it held no warmth. In fact that smile served as a warning, like a cobra's hood to those who attacked it. She walked up to him, "Perhaps," She spoke lowly, forcing him to lean in uncomfortably, "You should have taken care of the threat in a more permanent way. Made it look like an accident."

Barsad swallowed, he knew he was treading on thin ice.

"Yes, I should have. Perhaps I should take care of it now?" He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

"No." Her voice was still soft, but held authority. "Not now, she's somebody who people will care about if she was missing. I don't want her to be traced back to us, our mission is too important."

Just then Stryker made himself known, clawing at her ankle, spitting and hissing for all he was worth. Talia sneer, not reacting to her bleeding leg, and instead used it to kick the bundle of fur across the room. His body sailed before landing in a heap and lay unmoving. Barsad and the dark serving girl watched this without flinching, both because they were used to her antics, that and they knew that if they had stepped in it would've been worse for them.

"Figure out what to do with her, and that –thing!" She gestured wildly at the felled feline and whisked out of the room in a dark fury with her serving girl behind her.

Kestrel shuddered into consciousness, her body spasmed as it tried to contain what little warmth it had left. She was damp. Kes tried to take stock of her situation without moving too much. Each wracking shiver made her body ache even more, giving way to even more twitching. It was an endless cycle of agony. Her cheek was on cool damp concrete, and the front of her clothes were wet. The throbbing of her joints and the cloudiness of her head, lead her to believe she had the beginnings of a fever. Delicately, she lifted a hand to probe the back of her head where she remembered _someone _hitting her. The spot felt tender and mushy like an over ripened fruit ready to burst, and she didn't have to look at her hand to know that her fingers were coated in her own dark blood. Kestrel gagged, the gorge rising in her throat as she imagine what her wound looked like. Her hand felt its way down to her pockets. Whomever kidnapped her took her keys, and wallet. She didn't want to look around for fear of relinquishing whatever control she had on her stomach. What she could see was yellowed and mildewed concrete everywhere. She closed her eyes and let the sound of rushing water lull her senses. _Water. _

The slender woman frowned and rolled onto her back, her head making a barely there squelching sound as it made contact with the hard ground. Ugh, she was gonna lose it, she just knew it, But she didn't have the strength to turn her head. Everything hurt, and the pounding of her head got worse with each passing second. Unconsciousness would be a blessing, death even more-so. Tears leaked from close eyelids to mingle with her blood soaked hair.

"Please…" she whimpered, as if anyone could hear her.

Heavy footsteps echoed to her right.

"Please," Kestrel plead again, her voice husky from that cottony feeling in her mouth. Her chest ached and the pressure in her head grew to an excruciating degree. "Kill me…"

"Already you are begging for death? My dear, if only you should be so lucky." A jovial voice replied to her request. His voice sounded… wrong. It was like it was filtered, or used some kind of cloaking device. She turned her head towards the source of the voice, even though it cause her further pain. What she could see in her blurry vision were a pair of thick black leather boots and some black military issued pants that were tucked inside. The pair of legs shifted into a squatting position, causing her to jerk in alarm. Obviously the person wasn't here to show her mercy either. Large hands slipped beneath her knees and he shoulder and lifted her up.

She was a tiny thing really, Bane mused, she reminded him a bit of Talia during the times in the Pit, although this girl's smallness seemed more from genetics rather than being underfed. He carried her to one of the more secluded areas of the tunnels, away from the main traffic areas, he wanted her separate from the plans being made. She was pathetically light, and dressed as if she stepped through some sort of 60s rocker portal. Although he hadn't seen the 60s with his own eyes, he had read about the iconic time in history. He continued to observe her unabashedly as she looked up at him, flinching every couple of seconds in pain. Her color was grey underneath a copper colored skin tone, and her eyes could only be described as golden. Bane set her down on a cot covered in a dingy sheet with a privacy curtain haphazardly erected around it. Upon making contact with the bad, the small woman rolled over and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the ground. She returned, shuddering, onto her back, vomit lacing through strands of her hair and flecked the edges of her lips. Bane wrinkled his nose beneath his mask in disgust, and was thankful that he could only smell the anesthetic gas instead of her sickness that was sure to be permeating the air. The slim woman once again bucked and turned on her side to puke yet again.

Bane exited the makeshift room to find a bucket and someone to clean the growing mess.

15 minutes after he came back and found a lackey to clean up the vomit, Kestrel was still throwing up. She had nothing left in her stomach and all that came up was the bile of her stomach and a little blood. She wished she had something to throw up, it would be better than her stomach's painful clenching that forced the hot acid up her throat and past her lips into the bucket. Her left eye was cherry red, the blood vessels in the white of her eye had ruptured with the force of her dry heaves. If only someone would bring a glass of water to clear her mouth, so something. She swallowed thickly, unable to really clear it, or get rid of the burning sensation in her throat. The room was permeated with a sour stench, couple that along with the musky smell of an old restroom, it made for a most unpleasant smell. Her eyes watered, signaling another round of sickness, saliva coated her mouth in preparation for the oncoming onslaught and she leaned into the bucket and opened her mouth and let the bile drain forth. She had long since stopped caring whether her hair touched the puke or not, it just didn't seem to matter anymore. All she could think about was the pain and how she wished for it to stop. Kestrel rolled onto her back. Maybe if she stayed in this position, she would choke on her own vomit and it'd all be over. She waited. Nothing. No more puking, no more nausea. All that was left was the pain in her head, and the throbbing of her throat. Perhaps it was not her time to die after all.

Eyes half lidded, Kes sighed in relief as she felt a bone tiredness fill her body. She closed her eyes and drifted.

**AN- this took me a couple days to write. I'll probably post once a week. Probably not next weekend since it's my birthday ^_^ and I'm travelling for some auditions and photo-shoots. I've also taken to writing my chapters down longhand so all I have to do is just copy it onto a document. I like that process better so I can tweak my work and give it a second look.**

**I also have a playlist that inspires me, dunno if you guys want to see it or not, but I have it.**

**Yeah, this was a pretty long chapter, expect them all to be like this since I won't be updating as often.**

**Anywho, hope you enjoyed the chapter,**

**Cheers,**

**Aradia.**


	9. Chapter 9 Bittersweet Salvation

Kestrel moaned in her sleep, her body wracked full bodied shivers. It was like the time when she moved to Santa Prisca, and had gotten very ill with the island flu. Her grandmother tended to her, chattering away in her musical islander lilt. She could almost hear it.

_"Me own granddaughta… When ya get up, ya gonna be big an' strong. Ya gonn' be da prettiest one at da market, an ya gonn' get me der best deals in town."_

Kes smiled in her sleep, vaguely remembering the old lady's ramblings, it had made her smile then too. Another shudder travelled through her body and she curled further into herself, trying to conserve body heat, while also trying to preserve that memory. It was the dampness that was slowly killing her, it hung in the air like a ghoul, or a demon waiting for their victim to weaken and finally die before they devour the soul. Kes frowned in her sleep, shaking her head to rid herself out of her dark thought and tried to focus on better things. She thought of Santa Prisca and the beautiful year round summer sun that would darken her skin till it looked like a brown nut. She thought of the clear blue waters ,and the bright fishes in the cays. She thought of the coral reefs, and the Carnival Festival where she'd drink, get high, and be merry. Kestrel smiled to herself as she surrounded herself in memories that were far better than her present.

"Kestrel Asharah Lewis. Birth date: 11-24-1990. 5 foot 4 inches and weighs 103 pounds. Lives in 23rd Street in Gotham Skyline Apartments room number 834. I see that you are not an organ donor, you should be, you never know who you might help."

Kestrel opened her amber eyes slowly, blinking away the fuzziness, and focusing in on the voice. She saw the man who had carried her was sitting in a chair with her I.D in his massive hand and the contents of her purse were spilled on the floor. She screwed her eyes shut, waiting for the impending nausea that never came. Reopening heresy she watched as he continued to paw through her purse.

"Ah. You have cookies." The hulking man exclaimed as he continued to investigate her private world.

"Wha-" Kestrel stopped herself as she became aware of the dangerous sarcastic tone that edged the jovial tone of his speech. She swallowed thickly with whatever moisture she had left in her mouth, and waited to hear whatever else he had to say.

"Obviously they're not for you, a woman such as you must not indulge in such sweets, it might ruin your figure. These must be for another. A lover? Or a boyfriend, perhaps." He scrutinized her, slate blue eyes demanded an answer.

Kes sighed, unwilling, but forced to reply to his question, it was some sort of test that she hoped to God that she'd pass. She didn't want to play, only wanted to sink into the mattress and be forgotten. He cleared his throat, or at least that's what she thought he did, the noise being filtered through his ghastly mask.

"They're not for a boyfriend, I don't have one… They're for another woman." The man's eyebrows raised in surprise, "I have a friend with cancer so I made cookies and I had some left over."

"You expect cookies to cure cancer?" The man scoffed as he looked at her in distain.

"…No, but it gives a small comfort, especially for those who don't have much in that aspect…" She replied slowly, answering with care. He nodded slightly still looking at her, and she returned his stare with a look of her own, neither challenging nor submitting to the power of his gaze.

After a minute or so, she licked her lips, "What are you going to do with me?"

"I will kill you of course." Her eyes widened, his voice still had that casual tone of voice as if he were talking about the weather or some sort of other menial subject.

"You can't!" She cried out.

"I can't?" His eyes crinkled at the sides, and although she couldn't see his mouth, she knew he was smiling. Clearly, he was amused by her response. "Please tell me why I cannot kill you."

"The- the last place I was supposed to be was at Ms. Tate's place… I don't know what you're going to do but they'll connect it to her and they'll connect it to you, and whatever you guys are doing down here…"

"My dear, you have quite a bit of faith in the Gotham City Police Department if you think that they could deduce all of that just from a simple girl gone missing." His eyes sparkled with mirth as he continued to mock her. Kestrel swallowed again. It was another test that she had to pass in order to live.

"… And if that girl told a cop that she saw three men disappear down a sewer drain?" Her voice emboldened with each passing word of her bluff, "and that same _simple girl _went missing only hours later? They might not know what was going on, but they would know where to start looking."

Kestrel sat up and leaned against the wall behind her, clutching the blanket around her. She raised her chin proudly, she was afraid, but she would face this demon of a man nonetheless.

"Then that girl has done a very foolhardy thing…" His voice growled out underneath the mask, all pretences of joy gone from his voice.

"Foolhardy: yes, but it also saved her life." She replied quietly, still holding her head high.

"Even if I do let you live, they would come anyway, your life matters not.  
Kestrel flinched, "I would dissuade them, saying it was custodial workers or people working for the city," Her reasoning was flimsy at best but she carried on, hoping to appeal to his obvious logical nature, "If the cops were to come down here, then you'll have more people to kill. More people go missing, and more incentive for a bigger police force to come back down… It's a chain reaction you do not want to have for whatever plans you have."

His eyes narrowed, this girl was smarter than the average socialite and he was beginning to realize that. This, Kestrel Lewis, was intriguing, sort of like a puppy when it does something amusing. He stood up to his full height of nearly 7 feet tall, and slowly walked over to the small woman, who pressed herself against the wall as if she wanted it to swallow her whole. When he reached the edge of the cot, he crouched down so that he was eye to eye with this strange golden eyed girl. Her skin still held in undertone of grayness from her earlier illness and the blood complemented her tawny eyes beautifully. Both the red and the gold grew brighter still, when her eyes started welling with tears, that soon slipped down her cheeks and into the unknown abyss that was the small cleavage of her breasts. He saw her bottom lip tremble before she caught it between her teeth and bit down firmly. Bane's hand rose, seemingly of its own accord, to wrap his hand around her neck, not enough to choke her, but enough that it resembled some sort of macabre haute couture choker. So small she was, that he could touch his middle finger to his thumb together with room to spare. The slight woman swallowed and he could feel her warm throat work up and down.

He tilted his head, still clinically analyzing her, "So small, so easily breakable…"

He closed the gap between his fingers and Kes reflexively grabbed his forearm to try to pull him away. His lip curled in disgust, as if she could prevent him from breaking her neck. He really should do away with this nuisance, she would be trouble, he could tell.

While he was deciding her fat, Kestrel, in turn, got to observe him. His eyes were more of a green, she didn't know how she could ever had mistaken them for blue. They were expressive, as were his eyebrows. She couldn't see much else, but she could see that his mask was really made up of small metal canisters, and a faint anesthetic smell, like a hospital, was wafting from his person. She frowned trying to think while also trying to breathe through his ever tightening grip… _I've smelled this before… _

Quickly realizing what it was, she jabbed at one of the canisters, causing him to shove her back bellowing in pain. Her head hit the wall with a dull smack and she pitched to the side trying to avoid his meaty fists. Feeling the back of her head, she knew once again that she was bleeding again. Bringing her hand forward she was rewarded with the discovery of yet another injury: two of her knuckles were ripped open to the bone, and bleeding profusely. There was little time for her to wallow in her pain, she had to get out. Slipping under his legs like quicksilver, Kes made it through the door and was about to open it when a massive paw wound itself around her hair and slung her to the other side of the room. Hitting the concrete wall face first, Kes knew it was all over. Blood gushed from her newly split eyebrow and cheek. She crumpled to the floor, waiting for him to crush her, but once again she was met with unexpected mercy.

Bane, knowing she was down for the count, left the room slamming the door behind him, and left her bleeding on the floor while he went to fix his mask. The pain was almost to an intolerable level but he remembered when there was such a time when there was no mask, and gritted his teeth and bore it until the sweet salvation of the anesthetic wafted down his nose, into his lungs, and filled his blood stream.

**AN- I really wanted to upload on my birthday... and well, an hour late isn't too bad :P I've been travelling a lot, and with school, and all my other stuff, I'm glad that I can still come to this and my loyal followers :D thank you so much for the views. I adore all of you :D More to come **


	10. Chapter 10 Numb

**AN: Hope you guys enjoy the chapter, worked really hard on it :P I've been really busy, my styling business has really picked up, as with my modeling, and acting and school :P I love being busy :D :D I still have like 3 chapters written long hand, and it's just transferring them that's taking the time because I add and tweak so much to add to the story. **

**Thanks so much for the positive reviews :D**

**-Kes.**

A hand slapped her cheek none too gently, and Kestrel was forced into the waking world. She took a look around as her eyes refocused. Same damned room, with the damp concrete wall, and the sour smell she loathed. She went to wipe her face, when she found that her hands were bound together to the cot by a leather belt. A swell of panic blossomed in her chest, she didn't do well, confined like this, and it reminded her of times she would rather forget.

"C'mon sweet heart, up an' at 'em. You got a phone call." An unfamiliar face came into view, along with her cell phone and the barrel of a gun. One was pressed to her temple while the other was roughly shoved by her ear. A crystal clear incentive to not give anything away about her current predicament

"H-hello?" Her voice was low and cracked from the lack of water.

"Hey, Kes, it's me, John?" John… John? John! Her breath caught, the name was like a fragment of some other forgotten lifetime.

"John… hey…" She managed to croak out, tears slipping down her face. There was so much she wanted to tell him of her dire situation, but she couldn't. She probably wouldn't even get the words out before the man blew her brain to pieces.

"Kes, you okay? You don't sound well." It was sweet; he was concerned for her wellbeing.

"Um, yeah… I think I caught something, like a 48 hour bug… I feel absolutely horrid." She managed to choke out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. She cleared her throat, as the man shoved her head a little with the barrel to drive his point across.

"Do you want me to come over? You can give me your address and I-"

"No!" She cut him off abruptly, but then smoothed her tone, not wanting him to ask any questions. Instead she looked up at the man and replied, "I hate it when people see me sick… It only makes me feel more miserable than I already am."

"Alright then…" He sounded sad.

"Hey John? Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything." He really was too sweet.

"Can you go to Excell and tell Robin I won't be there for a couple days, my voice is starting to go and I don't feel up to dealing with her at the moment…" It was true; her voice was growing hoarse and had a whistling tone about it.

"Of course… call me if you need anything. And Kestrel?"

"Yeah?"

"I look forward to our date."

"Yeah…. Me too… Bye." She shut her eyes, willing herself not to cry, especially in front of this man who held her captive. She had bought herself a little bit of time, John seemed like the type to call in a couple days, and if she didn't answer then he'd probably use his cop skills to investigate. As long as she had a tie in the outside world, she was relatively safe.

"Cheer up sweetheart; I'm sure Lover Boy will still want you once this is all over… Assuming you'll survive of course." The man chuckled as he removed the threat to her head. Kestrel was so pissed, she saw red. She lunged at him forgetting her hands were tied, the metal frame of the cot protested loudly but held firm. The man stumbled a bit in shock at her fury, but soon erupted in laughter.

Kestrel lunged again, this time with her teeth snapping dangerously close to his nose.

"Go on! You're a feisty bit of fire aren't you, sweetheart? Go on! I dare you!" He leaned in, just out of reach and tapped the side of his chin where he expected her to punch him. Only she didn't. Her hands might've been tied, but her feet were not. Uncoiling her legs, she kicked him right in the groin. The man hollered, his face turning an unpleasant sort of purple color, but Kes wasn't concerned with his face but his hand that held his gun and was rising toward her face. Twisting and contorting herself she managed to avoid getting hit in the face but the bullet lodged in her shoulder, right below the collarbone. Her topaz eyes widened as she stared dumbly at the wound. The man looked equally in shock as he dropped the gun and looked at his hands in terror. The door burst open and the man who had broken into her home strode in and swiftly assessed the situation.

"Carter, outside. Now." His eyes and his voice brooked no disobedience. The man's forehead paled, although his cheeks kept that ruddy color of pain and embarrassment.

"But-" The man knew that going outside meant death.

"Now." His voice was softer, deadlier, and even Kestrel felt a shiver travel up her spine. If the man hadn't shot her, she might've felt remorse for his impending punishment. But as it were…

The man straightened up, nodded to his superior and left, closing the door behind him.

"Oh…" There was a pressure in her shoulder that was growing into something akin to pain but much worse. Dark red blood oozed from a wound that was completely round in shape. Bile rose up in her mouth just from looking at it. She looked at her captor helplessly. Her breathing quickened until she was panting, and her eyes threatened to roll into the back of her head.

Her face turned ashen and sweat started popping up about her brow.

"You did ask for it you know." The man smirked at her, not moving to help her, just observing.

"How did you know I did anything?" Her voice was quiet as she forced herself to stay in control and not scream out her agony. Her chest and arms were now slick with sweat, and everything was beginning to look a bit dark around the edges of her vision.

"Judging by the look of his face, and the way he limped out of here. I say you did a lot. That was a very dirty trick." Nonetheless, the man looked amused, and was that a look of approval on his face? Or was she beginning to hallucinate?

The door opened before she could reply, and the mammoth man in the mask stepped through the door.

"Barsad, leave us." Ah, Barsad. So that was his name. The part of Kestrel's mind that wasn't overwhelmed by pain filed that information for later use. The man named Barsad nodded and left the room without another word.

"My dear, I have kill people for less."

"Then why don't you just do it?" She replied tiredly, in too much pain to give a damn,

The giant man gave a scoff and sauntered to where she slumped bleeding in the cot. Shooting out his arm, her gripped her injured should in one massive paw and pressed inwards. Another test. She winced slightly, but tried to maintain eye contact, to not show any weakness, but as the pressure grew she dropped the act and focused on just not passing out. The man was relentless; he kept tightening his grip, digging his fingers into her soft skin, without regard to his victim's rasping wails and pleas to stop. Only when he felt her collarbone begin to splinter did her offer a reprieve.

"Remember this moment, Kestrel, Lewis. Remember this moment before you ever think about crossing me again."

The small woman nodded dumbly, processing the words and marking them to memory. It'd be a lesson she'd not soon forget.

Bane left to get supplies to mend his newly acquired pet, when he returned she was still slumped against the wall blood soaking the side of her shirt and forming rivulets down her arm. She didn't even twitch at the sound of the door squeaking on its hinges. For a minute there he thought she was dead, but as soon as he was in front of her, she raised her sallow face to him and met his gaze with a look of such hatred that if he had been a lesser man, he would've been afraid. 'But I am not' he replied in his head as he pulled up a chair and sat in it. The metal chair groaned beneath his weight but held firm.

"You come to finish me off?" She sounded hopeful. How curious for a human, to have such a will to die.

"If only you were so lucky Ms. Lewis. On the contrary I'm here to see to your wounds." She snorted at this but he carried on. "If you are to convince the police that there is nothing to find, it is best if you are alive to tell them yourself."

Kestrel scoffed, rolled her eyes at him, and picked out a spot on the wall behind him. His meaty hand immediately wrapped itself around her chin and forced her to look at him.

"You defiance might have held some amusement before, but I will have respect."

She struggled in vain to get out of his grasp but he was so much stronger.

"You have a bullet in your shoulder. I can either give you an anesthetic, or if you continue to be difficult I will not allow you that luxury. Either way the bullet is coming out. Your choice. Understood?" He shook her head for emphasis. The golden eyed girl forced a petulant 'yes' out from pursed lips. The image would also be comical if not for her dire situation.

"Very well, we have an agreement."

He untied her, and stripped her of her bloody jacket, which now bore a bullet hole, and then proceeded to render her Pink Floyd t-shirt in two. Kestrel began to protest but silenced herself when met with a warning glance from the large man. He then took the shirt and used it as a tourniquet around her arm. As he waited for a vein to rise, he took out a glass bottle along with a needle, filling the needle, he then pressed down on the plunger slightly to release the air bubbles. Without asking her permission he firmly stabbed the needle into her vein and pushed down. Removing the ruined cloth, he leaned back in the chair and waited.

Minutes later, euphoria sizzled up Kestrel's spine and prickled along her skin like static electricity.

"What did you give me?" She slurred up at him. Her normal caramel eyes took on a bright shade, almost manic in its brilliance.

"Morphine." He clipped back.

"Feels good."

With that final sentiment he went to work on her shoulder.

It was disconcerting to feel a pair of tweezers rummaging in her shoulder without any pain. It was disconcerting_ watching_ a pair of tweezers running through one's shoulder and not feeling pain. She saw the blood continue to ooze down her breast only to disappear beneath the black bra she wore. The trail reappeared a few moments later, only to seep into the denim of her jeans. 'Thank goodness they're black' a vainer part of Kestrel's mind sighed in relief. Focus. The rummaging continued, and Kestrel looked over where the man was working on her injured shoulder.

"Stop moving." He gruffed without stopping his movements. Kestrel leaned away, trying to extend her head far enough so that she could see what he was doing. As it seemed, the problem was that the tweezers couldn't get a firm grip on the bullet.

"I will not repeat myself, kestrel Lewis."

The small woman settled back down, leaning her head back, but still studied the man who was attempting to remove the bullet. Now that she was closer, she got the have the full effect on what the mask did to his voice. She could hear the soft undertone that his breathing, magnified by the mask. Perhaps he had some sort of microphone hidden in there, it would make sense, since he had to wear such that thick chunk of metal that was his mask. Kestrel smiled at the thought of it going wrong or not working anymore, especially in like some sort of criminal heist or something, that would be amusing to see. Kestrel's thoughts returned to his mask. She could now see why people were afraid of him and his mask. The vials were in such a way that they resembled teeth gaping in an open mouthed roar, or a beast, jaws agape ready to tear out the throat of his prey. Kestrel was prey. A cold sweat descended upon her as she realized what a precarious situation she was in. This was a life or death situation, and there was no do overs, once she was dead, that was it. She needed to make sure she was useful to him, not just a liability, so she talked.

"I've seen you before…" She muttered slowly to the top of his head, as he was bent close still trying to get the meddlesome object out of her shoulder. He finally found purchase on the bullet and proceeded to pull it out. She prayed that he'd believe that what she said was the ramblings of a drugged girl, and not the calculated decision of a desperate woman. All she had to do was give him enough information to pique his interest and not enough to be invaluable.

"Well, I haven't seen you, I saw your mask in Santa Prisca," Lie. "But it was sleeker, like a new car model." Truth.

The man looked at her for a brief moment and then returned to his task. He picked up some rubbing alcohol and applied it generously to the gauze and then pushing it against her wound. He applied pressure while gazing at her with poison green eyes. A puff of breath left her as he pushed a bit of air of her lungs, but she didn't utter any protests. Instead she stared into those eyes; they were like the sea in hurricane season down in Santa Prisca. When the lighting would hit the water and light it up a bright sickly green, like a disease. The waves would roil in anger as the wind snatched up house and broke them upon the beach. Any fishing boat caught on the high seas would find them tossed around before being pummeled into splinters on the hard fist of water. She could understand why people believed in Poseidon, for the water was a magnificent, yet dangerous, entity with depths unknown and unexplored. It was ancient and ever present in history, an unstoppable force in time. He looked away from her to get ready to stitch the hole in her shoulder. For such large hands he was surprisingly good at small needlework.

"Who are you?" The words were out before she could hold them behind dry lips.

"I am called Bane." He didn't falter from his handiwork.

"Bane." One definition was that it was someone or a thing that ruins or spoils. The more sinister definition was such a thing that destroys, and causes death. A shiver found its way up her back and lodged itself in her throat, making her swallow reflexively.

"And why are you here, Bane?"

Bane gently took her small hand, the one that punched his mask, and scrutinized its damage. The skin between her knuckles were split wide open, a macabre, fleshy grin that revealed rosy pink flesh beneath. Pouring the rubbing alcohol, he proceeded to sterilize her hand.

In the vestiges of her mind, she knew she should've felt the pain, but all she felt was the throbbing, euphoric numbness that was the drug.

Bane looked at her with his ever green eyes,

"I am here to destroy Gotham."


	11. Chaper 11 Return

"I am here to destroy Gotham."

Somehow when he said that she expected something to happen. Lightning would strike, a cackle would be heard, and some sort of grating theme music (in a dissonant key of course) would be playing. But time went on normal, unaware of this monster's proclamation to a small young lady in the sewers of Gotham. Perhaps the anticlimactic announcement was the reason why Kestrel didn't scream in horror or yell or try to escape again. Instead she just looked at the man intensely, mulling over the 6 words. He didn't _look _insane, but then again, looks can be deceiving. He certainly wasn't joking, if he were, it was one sick fucking joke. And he'd be one hell of an actor…

She looked into his eyes again. Yet another test. He wanted a reaction. She could tell that he was getting really intrigued by the emotions that played along her face. He wanted a reaction, so she relaxed against the wall and allowed him to continue to work on her hand. Kestrel allowed herself to fully relish the effects of the morphine.

Dame gazed at her for a couple of moments and then rethreaded and sterilized the needle and began stitching her skin.

"You're an addict." He stated in his unique baritone. The statement was neither accusing nor wondering, but he lifted his head and looked at her firmly.

"So are you," she snapped back raising both eyebrows at him, her eyes held such clarity at that moment that he briefly wondered if the morphine was still having an effect on her.

"You know too much." He resumed working on her hand, tying off the thread, he cut it loose and set it on the floor.

"Ha… not really… I know a lot less then you think I do."

"I should kill you."

She looked at him evenly, "You probably should. I'm a loose end that needs tying up."

"And yet I cannot kill you."

Kestrel sighed, "That's also true, if people found out I was missing they would come looking." She smiled at him, "Damned if you do, damned if you don't."

"Yes, it appears to be that way."

Kestrel made an agreeable 'hn' and settled back onto the concrete wall, mindful to keep her hand still as he started to wrap it up in gauze. She was so, so tire, but she needed to get answers while she could. Peering at him with half lidded eyes, she mustered up the courage to ask the question.

"Why are you going to destroy my city?"

"Because it needs to be destroyed." Bane replied simply.

Her eyebrows furrowed in response. Not good enough.

"Care to elaborate?" She might not have been Gotham born and bred, but she had people she loved in this city, people she cared about… and people she could start caring about.

"I don't take orders from a captive."

"Fine." She pulled her hand away from his, and settled herself more fully against the wall and closed her eyes.

"Your lack of respect will cost you one day."

"I figured… But not today though, right?" She opened one eye and looked at him. He stared hard at her, his look frightened her, but Kestrel felt safe enough in her cocoon of vital information and relative importance to taunt him. She smiled smugly and closed her eye again.

Bane leaned back in the metal chair analyzing the slip of a girl. She was snarky, rude, and insubordinate. If she was under his command she would be disciplined severely, or most likely killed. He would relish in the day her spirit would break, perhaps he'd keep her as a trophy, a memento of sorts.

"Tell me, how did you know about my mask, Kestrel Lewis?"

"The mask…" She struggled to form words in her haze… It was easier now, but the morphine was still coursing through her system.

"There was a man," _My father, "_A world traveler, a brilliant scientist," She smiled faintly, remembering how he looked when he would come home after being away for months abroad. He always told her of his adventures, the people he helped, the ailments he cured, and the inventions he made to make life easier.

"He always had the best inventions… Your mask is practically prehistoric." One day her father left and he didn't tell her where he was going, but when he came back he was obsessed with making these masks. It was strange. Kestrel froze, her mind rushing back to the present. She shook her head to clear it, did she say too much? Did he know? She look up at the man cautiously, but Bane didn't give anything away.

Bane studied her, she knew this man, more than a just a passing acquaintance, he could see it smeared all over her face that spoke louder and more clearly than her few words ever could. He thought about his early days in the mask, the pain was so newly unbearable he couldn't remember much. He had flashes of the person who fitted his mask, but not enough to find him and create a new one. The man had given the League a fake name and a dead end paper trail, and seemed to disappear entirely. Until now. This Kestrel girl had found new worth in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Kestrel was fretting on the inside. She couldn't afford to slip up again, she needed to keep her family safe from him. Struggling to replace her calm exterior, she exhaled, and tried to relax her body.

"Any more questions?" She tried to make it sound as bad-mannered as possible

Bane smirked behind his mask, he knew he had gotten to her, "I will ask more at a later time. I suggest between now and then you find a way to address me with more respect.

"Okay… Boss." She glowered at him defiantly. He returned the look, before getting up and gathering the supplies. Let her think she has won the battle, she will slip up in the end.

"Rest, you will return to your home tomorrow."

Kes opened her mouth for another snarky retort of 'Yes, Boss' when her stomach answered for her with a loud embarrassing growl. A day and a half of sickness and no food resulted in a very hungry woman. Bane's eyebrow lifted as she covered her midsection with her uninjured hand as if that would stop the sound from coming forth.

"I'll see to it that you are fed." With that, he left the room and shut the door firmly behind him.

The slim fashionista then carefully arranged herself into a lying down position, mindful of her wound, and closed her eyes. She allowed the residual effects of the morphine to pull her under.

)_+I**(&)&)()_()(&())*(*_)(_)*_*&*)(

This time Kestrel's nose woke her up. The lovely smell of cinnamon and brown sugar wafted into her nostrils and triggered the rumbling sensation in her stomach. She uttered a breathy moan longing and pulled herself up to a seated position. The man named Barsad sat in the metal chair across from her, and had a tray of what seemed to smell like oatmeal and a clear plastic cup filled with water. Kestrel shifted her feet so that he could put the food on the cot. Picking up the bowl in one hand she inspected it closely, looking for any visible signs of poisoning or it being tampered with. The sniffed it suspiciously and gingerly lifted a spoonful towards her face.

"The secret ingredient is arsenic." Barsad commented drily.

"I'm a hostage who just happened to get stuck in the middle of insidious plot for the utter destruction of a city and you're joking about poisoning like I shouldn't be paranoid."

"Bane said you had a mouth on you. So glad it is true." He seemed genuinely amused by her precautions.

Kestrel deemed the oatmeal edible and shoved the spoon into her awaiting mouth, before dipping in to retrieve another spoonful. The oatmeal was warm, relatively good and felt solid in her stomach.

"Where's my cat, Barsad?" She demanded around a mouthful of oatmeal. "If that bitch killed him…"She trailed of as she swallowed.

"Rest assured, he is fine, relatively…"

"Good."

"And if he wasn't?"

"I'd give that bitch what she'd deserve." She looked at him, clenching her jaw tightly.

"A but extreme for a mere kitten, don't you think?"

"He's family. He's all I got right now." Having admitted this, she looked down at her cooling bowl of oatmeal. The rest of her meal was eaten in silence. When she finished he placed the tray on the floor gingerly and eyed the cup of water reproachfully.

"There is no way I'm drinking that… Seriously? We're in a sewer. Gross."

Barsad laughed, oh she would be very amusing to have around, for as long as Bane wanted to keep her alive anyway. He watched as she settled herself back down into the sparse sheets and closed her eyes. She was by no means a great beauty, but with her fiery temperament, wild hair, and her odd colored eyes, she was interesting to look at.

He scoffed at her protective nature to the four legged beast. No doubt that if she ever face Talia the older woman would no doubt win. The stupid woman would hardly stand a chance against a person trained by the League of Shadows. Quickly he got up and left the captive to slumber on in peace.

)_+I**(&)&)()_()(&())*(*_)(_)*_*&*)(

Soft sheets, her sheets. Kestrel lurched out of bed and onto her feet. Her vision clouded into blackness as her blood rushed from her head. Her shoulder protested loudly, so Kes clutched her arm to her chest, trying to stem the pain. Looking down she realized that she was still wearing the same clothes from before she was kidnapped. Kes took an experimental sniff under her armpit: she stunk. Badly. Shifting her focus onto her hand, she flexed her knuckles slowly, they were stiff, and the stitched stretched a bit, but they held. Crusty brown flecks of blood fluttered to her carpet like a gory snowfall. She scrunched her face in disgust. She needed a bath. Pronto.

Cautiously Kestrel opened her bedroom door and padded into her living room. Bane was sitting on her sofa, the smallness of the room emphasizing the largeness of his frame. It was a bit of an odd site, him folded up on the small couch that seemed to be protesting at the weight of this giant. He was currently thumbing through her album of her life in Turkey, no doubt trying to figure out his captive and where to find her weaknesses.

She froze, understanding his motives and yet helpless to stop it. Quickly running through the items in her home, she didn't think she had too many photos of her family for him to take and possibly locate them with. Her friends in Turkey may be in trouble though.

"You dance?" Without looking up, he questioned her, still seemingly engrossed in looking through her leather photo album.

"I do." She swallowed.

He gave a nod, signaling that he heard her, but still made no effort in looking at her. Kestrel stood there for a few minutes, shifting uncomfortably on one foot before moving to the other. Still he paid her no heed, so, utterly bewildered, Kestrel turned and walked into her bathroom to get clean.

Standing in from of her mirror once more, Kes again was analyzing her body. Her eye was still a bright red with blood and her eyebrow was a knot of scabs and still healing skin. Her cheek was still an open wound with puss dribbling out and bruises surrounding it. She took in her shoulder wound, with was a puckered red, but otherwise fine. She would have to grab a scarf to support her arm while it healed. In general, Kestrel's body was a landscape of scrapes and bruises, courtesy of the rough treatment her body received during transport. Fingers grazed the swell of copper skin at her hip. It was barely there, but it was noticeable: a small hard cylinder object.

The Bastard put a tracker in her.

Fingers tightened around the device, ready to pull it out.

"Asshole…" It was sick, disgustingly invasive, and all she wanted to do was to tear it out, consequences be dammed,

Viscously yanking her towel off the rack, she hastily wrapped it around her and forced open her bedroom door to give him a piece of her mind.

"You put a fucking _tracker _in my side?" tears made it hard for her to push the words out, but she managed.

"I did. And it will remain there, lest you would want me to replace it behind your eye. And I will not use morphine." He still didn't even show her any courtesy by looking up and saying it to her face.

Giving a growl of frustration, she stalked back into the bathroom and banged the door shut.

Her bath was not a calming one, although now she was clean and smelled like oatmeal and Vanilla, rather than puke and stale sweat.

Once Kestrel returned to her room, she took in the fact that dressing herself would be quite a feat. Quickly ditching the idea to wear her usual fashionable attire, she dug around in her closet and found a well worn extra large t-shirt that hung to her knees and some pajama shorts. Slipping them on was another obstacle, but calling out for help was unacceptable. Armpits dampening with stress, she finally managed to pull on the clothes, and made a mental note of putting on more deodorant than usual. She also got a wide cloth scarf to use as a makeshift sling when she got the chance. _If _she got the chance.

Tiptoeing out to the living room, this time she was met with Barsad sitting in another chair, Bane was still lounging on her couch but had a tiny addition in his hands, which he was rubbing gently. It was orange and was making a deep rumbling noise, a purr that was distinctly feline.

"Stryker!" Kestrel moved forward to her pet, but hesitated; relieved that her kitten was alive, but unsure of the fact that this man had him. She had the feeling that this man wouldn't hesitate to kill the cat just to see how she'd react.

Stryker, who was oblivious to all, except for the hands that was giving him the most glorious belly rub of all lime, looked up at his master when she called and gave a pitiful mewl.

Kestrel's mouth twisted in a wry smile, leave it to Stryker to relish in the moment. She couldn't blame him, he just wanted come lovin' and was a serial cuddler. Besides, he didn't know he was in the arms of a maniac who was going on a genocidal warpath.

"You may come over to collect your pet. I won't harm you, or it for that matter." Bane looked up her. It was more of a command than anything, and that was what made her slowly inch her way to him. Bane scrutinized her appearance, making note of the split eye and the cheek wound that graced her face, he also saw the way she supported her damaged arm by holing it close to her frame.

"Come here." He disliked repeating himself, and was growing more irritated with the face that she only shuffled a few feet closer to him.

"Sit."

The dark haired woman lowered herself to the very edge of the couch, careful to avoid physical contact. The little ball of orange fluff managed to wriggle away from the hands of a killer and stumble into his master's lap. Slowly he lifted himself on his hind legs and propped himself against her chest. With wide innocent eyes, the kitten to in the changes to his owner's face. Stretching up, Stryker swiped his sandpaper tongue across her uninjured cheek.

"Thank you." Tears welled up in her eyes. As much as she wanted to bury her emotions in front of these strangers, being reunited with her pet was the best about her life at the moment.

"Do not thank me yet, you still have a job to do."

With that statement, the fragile peace she had formed in her mind vaporized. Cold dread wound its way up her stomach and settled into her chest. If he found out she was bluffing… She couldn't get caught up in what could be, Kestrel needed to focus on what was currently happening. She just needed to "talk" to the police and find another way to be useful until she could escape. Preferably before Bane and his gang (evil minions?) destroyed the city, so that she could actually warn the police.

Kestrel opened her mouth to respond when she was interrupted with a knock at the door.

Mouth still gaping open, her eyebrows furrowed.

_Who could that be?_

**AN- I know! Cheesy cliffhanger ending, but I wouldn't let this chapter go on forever… I do have the next chapter written in long hand, it's just actually typing it out that's the long part. I just don't seem to have the time to sit down and type :P THAT busy… Also it's why I'm uploading at 3 am :D :D **

**Enjoy though.**


	12. Chapter 12 Respect

**Wow. so it's been quite a while since I've published. I sincerely apologize, holding this off for so long has never been my intention. I do have a busy life doing other things, but I'm back now and I really enjoy this story and I will stick it out. So this long awaited chapter is for you all :) Already typing the next chapter!**

"You may answer the door. I don't need to remind you what happens if you speak of your current 'dilemma.'" His eyes crinkled at her. He was smiling.

Kestrel shook her head, a little harder than necessary, and tried not to panic. Pushing herself off the couch with her good arm, she padded to the entrance of her home.

"Who is it?" He voice was high and brittle, ready to snap. The small girl swallowed and cleared her throat before repeating the question.

"It's me, John. John Blake?" The reply was a question. As if he was afraid she wouldn't remember who he was.

Perfect. The Fates were out to get her, she knew it. The worst possible person who could've shown up was right outside her door. The thought of opening the door, grabbing the gun and shooting both of her captives flitted through her mind. But Miranda Tate or whoever she was pretending to be, something told her that she was the real threat. It was too risky, and she was too much of a coward anyway. Kestrel sighed; she knew what she needed to do. Kestrel loathed at the fact that Bane was listening to a part of her life. She didn't want him to know more than he knew already, so she opened the door and closed it discreetly behind her. Kes kept her head down, and arms crossed: two signs that she did not want to let anyone in emotionally.

"I told you not to come."

"I know but I was worried." He really was too good for her. In another time, she could've been with him, but now everything was changed. Corrupted. Kes sighed and leaned against the doorway.

"Hey." His hand brushed her shoulder. Flinching, Kestrel slapped his hand away and twisted herself away from his touch.

"Wha-"

"I'm sorry." She cut him off, and tucked her hair behind her ears. Damn it. He's going to know that something is wrong. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize. Who did this to you?" his look of bewilderment morphed into one of concern. When she refused to speak, his lip curled in disgust.

"Did your boyfriend do this to you? Is that why you lied about being sick?"

"No!" the word was out of her mouth before she could censor herself. "I don't even have a boyfriend."

She took in a deep shuddering breath. "I was robbed. I don't know who it was. It was on the way home and he threatened to kill me if I told anyone. I believed him." It was so natural to lie to him, to let the words slip off her tongue. "I lied because I was saving face. Literally." Kes let out a peal of laughter but it sounded hollow and forced. Meanwhile John still had a mixture of amazement and disgust on his face.

"How can you joke about something like that?"

"How many women have you processed? How many body bags do you have to fill because of a robbery gone wrong? How many women have been raped or mutilated in Gotham? The man only wanted my money, and I'm glad that's all he wanted. My face will heal in time."

His troubled look didn't look like it could be appeased by anything.

"I'm sorry if I handled things wrong… I just don't like people seeing me at less than my best. It ruins the illusion." She offered up a small smile. Little did she know that John Blake knew all too well about masks.

"I do appreciate you stopping by," She really needed him to leave before she had a complete meltdown, "I should probably get some rest."

"Yeah…" He knew she wanted him gone, but he was unwilling to leave. There was something there, something was missing.

"Um… But if you still want to I'd still like to go on a date with you." She offered it up like a consolation prize. Something wasn't right, but John didn't want to press her too hard right now. She was in a fragile state of mind.

"Yes, yes of course." He smiled that smile, and she mirrored it just the same. "I'll call you?" He moved down the hall, he was going to talk to her friend again just to see if the story checked out about the boyfriend. Just to be sure.

"I'm looking forward to it." She opened up the door behind her and slipped inside. Leaning her forehead against the door, she let out another sigh.

"Shit." What had she stumbled into? It was turning into a quagmire of deceit and evildoing. She was too deep into something that she knew nothing about. Uttering a growl of annoyance, Kes hit her head against the door as if the violence of the act would clear her mind. She knew that they were watching her, waiting for her to turn around. She didn't want to, not with tears in her eyes. Minutes went by as she tried to pull herself together. Her eyes were over wet with tears, but none had fallen down her cheeks yet. Deciding that that was as good as it was going to get, she took in a deep inhale and started in on breakfast, to take her mind off of darker matters. Kes decided that it would be an eggs and toast day, it reminded her of her childhood. She jerked open the fridge and grabbed a couple of eggs and some green butter from a glass dish. Putting a pan on the stove she turned to get a spatula only to find the mammoth man blocking her path.

"What?" She snapped waspishly while physically pushing him out of the way. He allowed himself to be moved, amused at her recklessness. She returned to making breakfast and sliced a piece of cannabutter onto the pan to melt. Kes deliberately ignored him, refusing him even the dignity to turn around.

"We must have a lesson in respect soon."

"Fuck off." It was a flippant remark she used often, but right after she said it she knew she overstepped the boundaries. Kes turned around to apologize only to be met by a meaty hand that struck her injured cheek. Immediately dazed, Kestrel careened onto the ground. Coming to her senses, she kicked out trying, in a pitiful attempt, to defend herself. Before her leg could cripple his knee, his hand shot out and grabbed her ankle and lifted her as if she were a mere bag of trash. On her way up, her head smacked hard against the linoleum, splitting her eyebrow open. Blood coursed its way down her forehead and into her hair. Stunned only momentarily, as soon as she got her bearings Kestrel start wailing and struggling as hard as she could.

"Let me go!" she screeched. Her shirt was becoming dangerously close to showing what she preferred to keep to herself. She did not want to give any of these men any ideas.

"Feisty little one, isn't she?" Barsad smirked, clearly enjoying the show. Kestrel replied with the choicest of curses, ones that would have her mother blushing in shame. Bane shook her, jarring her out of her tirade, before dropping his captive. Kes landed shoulder first; a sickening popping sound and the subsequent flash of pain told her that her injured shoulder was not dislocated. She didn't have time to fully register the pain before Bane grabbed her by the roots of her hair and dragged her over to the stove where her eggs were currently burning.

"You have spirit, Little Bird. This is the last time we will discuss the matter of respect. Perhaps if the lesson were branded upon your face, you will better remember it in the future."

"No, please don't!" Kestrel tried to get away from the flame that growing ever nearer to her face. The skin of her nose and cheeks felt as if they were aflame. She gripped his wrist where his hand was forcing her head down as if that would do anything.

"I'll do anything. Please." That was foolish. The pressure was gone and Kes found herself whipped around and facing Bane's chest. Her stomach sunk, afraid of what he might want of her.

"Agreed."

Shit.


	13. Chapter 13 Exchange

**This one is a doozy. It's a bit longer than most of my other chapters, mainly because I couldn't find a stellar place to stop it. I have the other chapter waiting, I'll just hold on to it and see how you guys react to this. Things are happening in my life, all of them good, good things. If I don't update for a while, don't worry, we shall find out where Kes is headed eventually. I will finish this story :)**

* * *

"I won't tell you about the mask."

"Now you want to make deals and exceptions… I will allow it my little nestling; you will find that I am not without mercy. Make your demands." He opened his arms grandly, as if no demand was deemed too small to make.

Kes squinted, eyebrows coming together in a frown. Her shoulder throbbed dully in time to her heart and her eyebrow. What kind of game was he playing?

"My life. And fix my shoulder and my eyebrow and I will talk." Speaking of which, gravity was now causing the blood to drip down onto her cheekbone a macabre imitation of a tear stain. Bane looked at her as if he were truly considering the offer. His eyes crinkled, an indication that he was smiling again.

"You shall have your deal. Although, since you have made your demands I shall make mine," Bane paused, Kestrel nodded for him to continue but it was hesitant. He didn't seem the type to ask for anything sexual, so her virtue would stay intact, but she was worried he would make her do something that would break her mentality… He seemed like the sick type who would do that.

"You are to accompany me when the time comes and you are to stay at my side whenever I see fit."

"Like a pet or a slave?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"They are your words, not mine. Although I think that you are getting the better part of the deal. It would serve one as delicate as you to have one such as me for protection."

"… More like protection _from_ you." The brown eyed girl glared at him as she raised her chin deliberately to show him the damage of her face. Bane was unmoved though he started advancing towards her.

"Okay, fine. I get to be your," She gestured with her good hand, trying to come up with a word, "Unwilling companion, and answer your questions, and you'll fix me up and not kill me. Deal?"

He still didn't say anything, and beads of sweat started to pop out along her forehead and neck. Perhaps she overstepped with that protection comment. He walked up to her until they were chest to chest, or would be if she weren't so short. It was more of his bullet prove vest grossly invading the personal space of her head. He crouched down so he was at eye level with hers.

"We have a deal. But remember this, I have your word. Break it, and I will finish what I started." Bane's hands whipped out and abruptly pushed her shoulder back into place.

* * *

Kestrel's eyes fluttered open. Her head felt weird. Like a tugging right above her eyeball. Kestrel groaned and turned her head, flicking her hand to get rid of the sensation.

"I wouldn't do that Little Kestrel." Bane turned her head back where it was and readjusted stitch where it was pulled too tight.

"What happened?"

"When the pain in the body is too much, it makes the mind unconscious in order to deal with that pain."

"Oh. But I'm pretty sure that a bullet wound is a lot worse than fixing a dislocated shoulder. And I did not pass out when I got shot… though I would've liked to."

"Not all pain is physical." Bane mused. His eyes were crinkled in amusement. He enjoyed terrifying her, making her physically react to his prowess. Suddenly Kestrel realized what being his companion would truly entail and her body shuddered for what was in store for her. God, if he could make her faint now from fear… Imagine the next few weeks… days…

"Cheer up Kestrel; it will not be this day." His voice was jovial as he answered the unspoken question that was hanging in the air. Kes was anything but comforted, she no longer could trust anything he said, even if he said he wouldn't kill her, he still could. She still had information that he wanted to know. It was not the secure cocoon she thought it was, it was more like a flimsy gossamer scarf: Pretty but unnecessary for any purpose. He already had a functioning mask, but would like for it to be more efficient. Bane could kill her any time he'd like if he found any reason to. She swallowed thickly as the new knowledge weighed heavily on her shoulders.

"You drugged me again?" The familiar pull of morphine was back, she liked this kind of high, and if she wasn't careful she knew she'd get addicted to it.

"I did. Your eyebrow needed mending, as part of my agreement."

"Thank you." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and yet she didn't want to take the words back. Kes frowned to herself confused worried about her feelings. Should she be thanking a mass murdering maniac who bandaged her wounds? Wounds that he gave her no less.

"Stop moving." He commanded softly, his mask making it harder to hear. "Relax your face."

Her eyebrows were furrowed in a frown, but she let in a shallow breath to relax her body. Bane finished and placed a band aid over her newly acquired wound. While all of this, Kes looked at him with such horror as if he were about to grow claws and shred her limb from limb, which wasn't that far from the truth.

"You will get what you deserved one day, I hope you know that." Her voice was soft but held conviction.

"And what might that be, my little bird?" He was taunting her, he knew that she would object to his possession of her. Kestrel ignored him and glowered up at him.

"Death."

Bane's low chuckled vibrated through her. "We will all die in the end, mine will bring forth a glorious revolution."

"You're crazy." Insane. The dark haired waif shook her head in disbelief. "You're sick…"

"Am I? What of the citizens of your beloved city?"

"Not everyone is bad. You don't go genocidal just because of a few bad people."

"My dear, your city is rotting from the inside out." He enjoyed this, getting a rile out of this small woman who had such spirit. Yes, he would enjoy breaking her, but not before he showed her the truth.

"And you're only solution to that is to what? Blow it all up?" She meant it as a joke, to be outlandish, but when Bane didn't say anything but gave her a knowing look, her mouth dropped open in shock. "That's how you'll destroy Gotham… You're going to blow it up."

"Indeed."

"You can't…"

"Can't I? Tell me, when a building is condemned they raze it to the ground do they not?"

"We're not a building, Bane. We are-" She tried to explain, but he interrupted her.

"There are still some good parts, bricks and beams that could possibly be saved, but on the whole: The building is irrevocably damaged. For the good of all the building must be destroyed. For the sake of the surrounding building and the whole city. It must be destroyed."

"We are not a building, Bane." Kestrel held strong.

"No, But for the good of humanity, you must be made an example of." This was a not a man to be reasoned with. He lived in his conviction. There would be no getting through to him, no mercy.

So instead of replying to Bane, she turned her attention to his right hand man, Barsad, who was currently ripping open a pack of her cookies he found by raiding her fridge.

"Don't eat those. They're expensive." She smiled up at him.

"And why is that?" Barsad took a savage bite and grinned lascivious at her.

"They're laced." She deadpanned. He immediately dropped the cookie as if it were a viper and looked as though he were going to spit right there on her linoleum

"It's only marijuana, it won't kill you. But it is a bitch to get that high grade here. So if you please." Eyebrows raised in a haughty look as she commanded him to set them down. Barsad obeyed, if only to humor her.

Bane was curious. She did not seem as though she participated in drug use, although cannabis was mundane enough. Still it was a surprise, and not often was he thrown off. Then again, he knew in the short time he met her, she had a rebellious streak. _Insolent_.

"Who are you?" This female, she was hiding behind something. He found a tear in her glamour and was determined to rip it off and leave her exposed.

"I am Kestrel Lewis." Kestrel replied, befuddled at his question's subtext.

"Do not play coy with me, nestling. You will find that you will not like that path."

She opened her mouth to reply with a nasty retort but paused, as the first utterance of a sound left her airways. _Damn it, if I don't get a hold of my mouth, I'm going to get myself killed!_

"Kestrel Lewis is my real name. I grew up in south Florida. Moved a lot before settling down there though." As if that would be important. "I went to Turkey, then Santa Prisca and ended up here… That's the Cliff's Notes version."

"Tell me of your family."

"I have a mother, a sister…" She hesitated.

"You have a father, yes."

"Had. He died." Lie. Kestrel looked away from him. She couldn't tell him the truth or she'd lose her leverage.

"You do know that if you lie to me, there will be serious repercussions." It was unfair, Bane could read her like a book.

"For all accounts and purposes he is dead. I haven't seen him in years." That much was true. She hadn't seen him in years, but they still kept in contact from time to time. That is, whenever it was safe, they would have a brief phone call. Bane seemed to accept this, though he still looked like he wanted to press into the matter. Instead he went in a different direction.

"Those cookies, they are in the same packaging as the one your purse. Explain."

"Yes. They are the same type of cookies. I sell them to people, mostly cancer patients who can't afford the chemo or the pain meds. Terminals," Kestrel's mouth twisted in bitterness, "Healthcare is so damned high nowadays… It's good to offer them some relief." In her mind's eye she could see her clients, each one growing more withered and frail with each visit, until one day they weren't there anymore. She tried not to get close to them, but it just couldn't be helped. The heaviness of their lives was just another weight added to her soul.

Bane considered his small captive: she who walked the fine path between heroism and being a criminal. Finally he addressed her.

"You must keep up appearances," Kestrel's head shot up, looking at him bewildered. "We need not cause suspicion when it is unneeded. Is there any place you need to go? I expect you would have a job, or is drug dealing all you do?" Ouch. He made drug dealing sound like something more insidious, like nailing live kittens to a wall.

"Uh. I have a job as a fashion house-"

"I am aware of that. You were the one who brought Ms Tate her dress, am I correct?"

_Asshole, he was probably asking to see if I told the truth…_

"Yes. I can just call in from here. I also dance," Barsad arched an eyebrow at her and she snapped. "Not that kind of dance. Perfectly respectable dancing at The Sultan. But, seeing as my face is less than stellar," She looked pointedly at Bane, "I can call Armand to get a replacement for the time being."

"I see."

"I believe one of you has my cell phone?" Kestrel asked. She wasn't exactly rude, she was still licking her wounds from earlier. Barsad produced it from his back pocket, before presenting it her.

It took her about 15 minutes to explain to Margaret why she was absent, she gave the excuse that she was mugged and was recovering. Her boss replied to have the jacket in my tomorrow evening. It was doable and Kestrel was just thankful that she wasn't fired. Bane and Barsad watched her as she ended her conversation.

"Thank you Margaret for understanding. I'll have it in by tomorrow, I promise." She hung up. Kes turned her amber eyed gaze to the mammoth man, "I need to go to the fashion house to pick up some things… is that okay?" It was the first time she asked for permission without any sarcasm in her voice. Rather she asked with all the doe eyed honesty of a child. _It was much improved. _Though Bane to himself.

"I will allow it. Barsad will accompany you, since I will be otherwise engaged."

Kes nodded. "I'll go change." She cringed after the words fell from her lips. _As if they needed to know that._ Barsad was still leering at her, which she frowned at before turning and heading back to her room. Closing the door, she stumbled out her shorts and pulled on some thick grey leggings. By that time her arm twinged too painfully for her to change her shirt, so instead she grabbed a cream coast lined in black that hung to her knees. Kes also grabbed a pair of dark sunglasses to conceal her bloody eye, and some flat soled black boots.

When she reappeared in her living room, she spied her scarf on the couch where Bane was and, taking a breath to steel herself, she walked over and picked it up.

"Can you-?" She couldn't continue, embarrassment flooded her being as a blush crept up her cheeks. The scarf was as frail and delicate as her life. Bane stood up and motioned for her to turn around. Slowly he pulled the scarf from her fingertips, allowing for the full length of the scarf to pass through her fingertips. Looping it around her arm, he drew up her arm till it was at a 90 degree angle and brought the ends around the back of her neck.

"Move your hair." He rumbled in his mechanically filtered voice. Slowly Kestrel moved her dark hair away, exposing the slender column of her neck. Deftly, especially for one with such big hands, he tied the scarf in a knot, creating a comfortable sling for her arm. He let his hand linger, allowing the palm of his hand to rest on her bare skin just above the knot. Kes froze at the invasion of her personal space.

She held much resemblance to a baby owl with her slight figure, tousled hair, and large eyes that he could only describe as a golden brown. Perhaps he should keep her as a pet, to mold her, create something new, to watch her grow into a phoenix. Perhaps. He let her go, and she quickly removed herself from his close proximity.

"Do I disgust you?"

"You frighten me. You've threatened me with bodily harm more than once and physically attacked me around the same amount… And you're going kamikaze on my city. If I were not frightened of you, there'd be something wrong with me." Bane stepped closer, and she darted back quickly, raising her hands in a defensive stance. Chuckling at her reaction, he finally backed off and sat back down.

"Perhaps if you were not so willful, I wouldn't need to injure you so, Nestling." He his eyes creased at the ends, signaling his growing amusement. "But, all pets should be trained, you will learn soon enough." He waved his hand to shut her mouth which had fallen open in indignation. Kes decided to let it go. _Pick your battles, _she thought to herself sourly, biting her tongue.

"I need my purse."

"Barsad has it." Of course. He had everything.

"Okay." She rolled her eyes, "I guess we can go now."

* * *

Something wasn't right, John Blake knew something wasn't right when he met Kestrel at the front of her apartment. She wouldn't let him in and she was fidgety. So he followed her, he tried to tell himself that he was just a concerned citizen and officer of the law, but he cared about her. She was different, in what way, he wasn't quite sure yet, but he wanted to find out. So here he was waiting for her to come out of her apartment building so he could see what she might be hiding. Sure enough she came striding out in sunglasses and a sling accompanied by a man in all black. Officer Blake snapped a few pictures of the couple, paying close attention to the man's face. Kestrel might not want his help directly, but if he could lock this guy up and keep him away from hurting her, it would be for the best.

* * *

They made it to the cloth house without speaking to each other but Kestrel was bubbling with questions. It seemed that he didn't have the authority to lay a hand on her, but she didn't want to push her luck either. She walked through the aisles trying to find the right sort of fabric, before finding a soft but sturdy cotton linen blend. Now she just had to find a color.

"So… You guys are really gonna blow Gotham to pieces?" She tried to ask conversationally. Barsad grinned, she was about a subtle as a bull in a china shop.

"We are." Was his clipped reply. Kestrel pushed her glasses up to her forehead to get a more accurate view of the color selection. Too blue. It needed to be darker. She moved down the aisle and Barsad shadowed her.

"How did you come to be with Bane?" She was ruthless in her questioning. Kes turned her honey eyed stare on him.

"I made a name for myself and he found me."

"That's it?" Kestrel tried not to sound too put off by the brevity of his story.

"That's all I am at liberty to discuss with you at present."

"Oh." She went back to looking at fabrics. "I don't know anything."

"You know more than the vast majority of the Gotham Public." Barsad smirked at her.

"I wish I didn't know." She replied quietly, looking at him with somber eyes. "To know that you're in a doomed situation and yet you are helpless to stop any of it." She stopped by a dark blue fabric. It was perfect, like twilight: Dark but not overpoweringly so. "Here" She pulled out the bolt of fabric and thrust it in his hands. It took around 15 minutes to find the mustard colored silk that would be the inside lining and the buttons that would adorn it. She checked out and thanked the owner, telling her that she was welcome to come down by Excell and that she should receive an invitation to the fashion show in a couple of days.

"Ready?" Barsad gestured, opening the door.

Unsure if he was referring to the walk home or to what was to come, she murmured a hesitant "Yes." Steeling herself for the brisk weather, Kestrel stepped out into the real world once again.


	14. Chapter 14 Snippets

**Ah! So this chapter is just little snippets through the time frame of Bane's takeover. It jumps back in forth through time leading up to that point... whatever, you'll get it. I'm well ahead of this chapter, as usual I just have to transfer it to the computer :P I have a lot of writing projects in the works as well as setting up a store on etsy and getting my shit together to I can move to LA. THAT being said, I shall try to keep posts regular like (as regular as they can be...) but no promises, except that I will finish the story.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Kestrel was supposed to be packing, but she already packed everything she could need away, including the outfits that once adorned her walls, a request from Bane. She had asked for a few more minutes, though she was only trying to stall the inevitable: She was to be presented to Bane as his new ward. Tears flowed from her eyes as she saw the scene at Gotham Stadium replay in her head. The explosion of one of the boxes that most likely held a bunch of important people. The stadium floor collapsing. _Where was Batman? _He made an appearance a couple days ago during the incident at the Wall Street bank. Kestrel quickly reminded herself that Batman was gone. Courtesy of Bane. Their last hope, was gone. Most likely dead. Someone banged on her bedroom door. Kestrel's head whipped around, her hair making a wild halo around her face.

"Open up sweetheart." Carter hollered on the other side of her bedroom door, banging it for emphasis.

* * *

(1 week prior)

Kestrel and Barsad were back in her apartment, but Bane was missing. _Probably finishing his plans to kill humanity_, Kes though snidely to herself. The atmosphere was lighter though without his presence, without his overtly huge frame crowding her personal space. Kes set her stuff on the couch and brought out a small table from a corner that she unfolded with her good hand. It was going to be a bitch getting this jacket done, but she was certain it was doable. She went back to her room only to return with her glass pipe and some bud.

"Want any?" Kestrel asked diplomatically.

"I'm on the job." Barsad replied with a smile.

"Suit yourself. Can you come help me, then?" They had gotten better at talking to each other. They talked of Turkey, a place where they were both familiar with. He revealed that's where he was stationed when Bane found him, and she revealed that it was the place where she learned to dance and how she had stayed for man. They formed a tentative bond over their similar backgrounds, though she didn't dare delve into her paternal history for fear of losing her value as a captive.

"Very well. What would you have me do?" His voice low as he stepped closer to her. Kes backed away, blushing. He was attractive and probably was the sort she'd go after, and although his advances thrilled her and their banter was a welcome relief from her current predicament, she could not forget the precarious situation she was in. The last thing she needed was to lose her head and do something stupid. Not to mention he was a trained killer, and not a good person. No matter how kindly he treated her.

"Um… Well, for now you can sit over there," She indicated to the far end of the couch. "Wait!" He stopped and turned towards her. "Can you-?" She turned around and held her hair to the side so that he could reach the knot at the back of her neck. Slowly he undid the two ends of the scarf and let them drop to the floor. Kestrel slid away from him before he could touch her any more than necessary. Kes turned and cleared her throat. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize." He murmured stepping closer to her. Kestrel swallowed nervously.

"You won't rape me, will you?" Her eyes prickled at the thought. It wasn't as if she could stop him. Barsad stopped his advances, and took in the petrified woman in front of him. She had such a goodness about her, an innocence that he and Bane were attracted to. It was like a beacon of light, drawing creatures of the shadows to it to try and snuff it out.

"On my honor, I will not." It was the truth. But perhaps he could persuade her into being a more willing participant. Rape was a tasteless thing, a willing partner was more enjoyable. He could see her face twisted in ecstasy in his mind's eye. He knew he would enjoy the taste of her skin.

Kes could see the lust in his eyes, he was not an ugly man, but it was neither the time nor the place to be thinking about sex. No, not with him. Remember the he is the enemy. Her blush deepened she tried to concentrate on getting the jacket done. _Concentrate._

Barsad was a willing assistant, helping her cut the out the pattern and fitting them to the bust which she pulled out. Stryker came and perched on her shoulder, wrapping his tail around her neck, while she sewed everything together. He leaned in to inhale her second hand smoke from her pipe and she turned her head to accommodate him.

"You get your cat high?" Barsad scoffed at the image.

Kes looked up at him over her sewing machine. "He's the one who likes to get in my face when I smoke. If it's his choice then, whatever."

"You act as though he is human."

Kestrel snorted in return, "He has the personality as if he is one." She scratched under his chin, making Stryker purr loudly. "I think he's just intrigued by the smell more than anything else." She stopped rubbing his chin and went back to her project.

Soon the rising sun was filtering through her windows and Kes decided to take an nap, although not without another promise from Barsad that he wouldn't touch her. With his promise, she allowed her body to stumble over and crash on the couch that the dark haired terrorist wasn't on and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

_Think, THINK! _Kestrel's mind was in a panic. Carter's voice grew more enraged at each moment she refused to unlock the door and let him through. Suddenly the banging at the door stopped. Kestrel paused, suspicious at the break in the air. A large thud echoed throughout her bedroom. He was going to break down her door! The small woman spied an umbrella in far corner by her bedside. It wasn't much of a defense, but it would have to do. She grabbed it before bracing herself against the wall by the door so she could catch him by surprise when he broke in. It wouldn't be long now.

* * *

Kestrel was at Excell when she saw the news of the break in at Wall Street, Carter was watching her from a corner outside, which explained why she saw Barsad and Bane's face replayed among the security camera footage. They had a small blurb on the news, a failed attempt at robbery it was assumed. Batman was the headlining story as well as the debate on whether he was a ruthless, murdering vigilante or a hero come back to save the city. Kestrel was hoping for the latter. At worst he could be in league with the two men, finally succumbing to the dark side, the break-in being a ruse and the plan was to really make it look like he was the good guy again. It sounded too twisted to be true, but, she reasoned, Miranda Tate also came out of nowhere as well. She got as much info about her as possible from Margaret. Supposedly she was a socialite with a heart of gold. She fought hard for animal rights and was fervent on clean energy and making the planet green again. She and Wayne had done a clean energy project together, Kes reminded herself to Google that later, and both were really invested in it financially.

"Oh…" The image of Bane mercilessly beating the security crew was enough to make everyone glued to the television flinch. Everyone meaning a couple of customers, Margaret, Robin, and Kestrel.

"I'm going to close the store. I think it's the best interest of everyone that you go home and lock your doors." Margaret announced to her small audience. No one was complaining.

Kestrel struggled into her coat and walked through the door, knowing Carter was nearby, tailing her.

When Carter was assigned to follow her, she refused to let him in her home. Bane actually relented, surprising Kestrel, probably because he knew the brief violent history between the two. Kes didn't really know what happened to the guy after he was dismissed for shooting her, but whatever it was, clearly he wasn't over it, for he was still glaring daggers at her.

Barsad was there in the middle of her apartment in full regalia of a bullet proof vest and a large gun. Clearly he must have seen the news, too.

"Time to move, Princess."

Kes wrinkled her nose at the nickname, _what was it with these guys? _

"Will we be back here soon?"

The dark haired man nodded, "The boss just needs you down for safekeeping." Barsad found that she was quite compliant when she at least knew a little about what was going on around her, and, frankly, a bitch when she didn't.

"It's happening isn't it?" A slight nod affirmed her suspicion. "Can I come back?" Did it matter? Would she even be alive?

"… I will try to see to it."

"I'll just grab a couple things." Kes scurried off to her room with her dark hair billowing from behind her. She grabbed a suitcase from the top of her closet and started stuffing clothes and underwear inside. Pausing, as she surveyed what else she could take, she decided to take her family photo album which was in her nightstand and the tin container containing her highest grade pot along with a glass pipe. If she wasn't coming back at least she'd be taking something the mattered most to her, and a bit of fun as well. She also grabbed a bag of cat food and a bowl. Stryker would have to come as well. Barsad knew that.

"Ready." He bag was zipped and in hand as she walked out toward her captor. Brown eyes welled up as she tried to memorize every piece of furniture, her walls with the costumes adorning them, even the pattern on her tacky linoleum floor, wondering if she was ever going to see it again. She gathered her courage and followed him out the door with her ginger kitten following closely in her wake.

Kes bent over to touch her toes, her hair cascading all around her face. The dampness of the sewers made her bones and joints ache, but she refused to let it deter her from doing her yoga and dance practice. She did all of this from behind a curtain that was erected to sequester from the rest of Bane's men. Kestrel might not have had music to hear, but the drum patterns thrummed through her soul and she made up the beat in her mind. She managed. After they were done with whatever plans they had, Bane would have dinner with her and ask her about her life. Well, she would have dinner while he monitored her. Mostly the questions were about Turkey, but a close second was her stint in Santa Prisca. She didn't mind these questions, but whenever the subject turned to her family, she was noticeably tight lipped.

After their 5th dinner together Bane had an announcement for her.

"You will be returning to your loft tomorrow, where you will gather whatever you need."

The fork stopped on its way to her mouth.

"When you finish, come find me." With that he stood up at left her, leaving Kestrel perplexed and slightly frightened.

* * *

It couldn't be right. John checked again, looking at the two photos side by side. There he was in both of the pictures. One at Kestrel Lewis's side and the other in a still of the security photos by the bank. Officer Blake looked again, just once more to make for damned sure. They were the same person, but he had yet to find an ID on the guy, whoever this guy was though, he was a professional. Probably not from around Gotham either if he was pulling stuff likes that Wall Street incident all the time. Since the Harvey Dent Act, crime was low. Whoever he was, Kestrel was connected to him. Officer Blake was going to have another talk with her, and soon.

* * *

She threw up as she heard the sound of Batman's back breaking. It was barbaric to see a man beat another so completely, so ruthlessly. The breathy scream that he let out as his spine snapped would wake her in a cold sweat for nights to come. Kes glared up at the woman who led Gotham's hero into a trap. At least she had the humanity to look remorseful. The last obstacle that could protect the city was gone, and now Bane could do whatever he pleased with it. It was over.

* * *

When John heard the masked man was behind the sewage explosions, he knew immediately that he had to find Kestrel. She was connected and she was going to give him answers. It was time to make that visit.

* * *

Carter smashed through the door and was met with the wooden handle of her umbrella. Blood spewed from his broken nose like a garish faucet of red. Carter cursed. Kes swung again this time, this time at his hand, which sent his gun sailing into the mess that was her closet.

"You crazy bitch!" Carter rushed her, holding no bars. She had no time to prepare herself when he caught her around the middle and smashed her into the ground.

Kes wheezed as she struggled to get air into her lungs. Black spotted her vision courtesy of her head crashing against the floor. Time seemed to slow as her thoughts crawled back to her. She lie prone as the feeling came back into her legs and shoulders. Weight of her stomach. She looked down.

Luckily Carter seemed to be as dazed as she was. He looked up sluggishly and looked at her, a cut was in the middle of his forehead. She wriggled away, kicking him for good measure. Turning over on her stomach she tried to right herself but her vision swam. A hand clawed at her ankle trying to pull her down. Carter dragged her down, preventing her from standing up.

"I'll give you what you fucking deserve." The sound of a belt buckle…

"NO!" the cry was hoarse with unshed tears, if he caught her now, she was done for. Kes stumbled to her hands and knees. She kicked out again, this time catching Carter in the chin, stunning him once more. Kestrel stood and wobbled over to her doorway, tilting this way and that like a drunk as her equilibrium tried to right itself. She was halfway to her door when it forced open with a kick and she was faced with Officer Blake pointing a gun directly at her head.

* * *

Whatever he was expecting when he went to Kestrel's place, it wasn't for her to come barreling out of her room only to collapse when she reached the door, or that a bloody man was to be charging after her with a gun, pants hanging around his ankles. The man let off two rounds before Officer Blake hit him twice in the chest. Kestrel was up and stumbling forward. John opened his mouth to ask what the fuck was going on, pardon his French.

"No time… We gotta move." She still couldn't catch her breath, whether it was from the body check or fear she couldn't tell anymore. Kestrel didn't have much time before Bane realized she was missing.

"Wait." She held up a hand as Blake moved to help her. She hobbled over to the kitchen, where she selected a serrated knife from a drawer. Before Blake could object, or she really thought about what she was doing, Kes sliced her hip right below where the tracker was and pulled it out hastily before throwing it in the direction of her bathroom.

"Time to go." She put her bloody hand in his and tugged him out of her apartment.


End file.
